“I think you are scowling worse than Jared now.” Joseph waved a hand in front of his face and shoved a bowl of soup in his direction.
“Oh.” He accepted the bowl and attempted to wipe the sour expression from his face. But questions ate at him.
“What were you doing down there?” In between bites, Joseph motioned to the woman’s camp with his spoon.
Jacob cleared his throat and shrugged a shoulder. “Just offering to lend a hand.”
His brother seemed to accept the meager explanation, for he nodded an agreement and continued to dig into his food. But his mother’s scrutiny bore into him. Her face held no judgment or hint of her thoughts, but she watched him intently. Heat crept up the back of his neck as he attempted to pretend he did not notice. After parenting five children, the eldest of which was twenty-seven and youngest of which was nineteen, it seemed his mother could see right into their thoughts sometimes.
“’Tis good to lend the hand of Christian charity and help those in need.” Her voice came out as even and gentle as ever and was accompanied by a tiny, approving nod. Did she truly believe his words? That he had only been doing his part? Or was she simply covering for him in front of his brothers and sister? A look into her brown eyes did not give away the answer.
“Yes.” He barely croaked out the answer. For charity was the furthest thing from his mind. Instead, it was how he could get close to the only woman who had ever held his heart and coax some answers from her. Surely, he deserved as much, since she disappeared from his life without a word of explanation. Now, she had reappeared just the same. And in some ways, the way his stomach tumbled, it was as though the years had never passed.
Metal clanked against metal as Dawn knelt and gathered the dishes to take down to the creek for washing. Using her right hand, she easily balanced them in the crook of her left arm. Her stomach growled at the sight of the half-eaten ham her stepmother had left on her plate. The woman had been pale as a ghost and barely touched her food when she reemerged from the cabin, but no explanation had been offered thus far, and Dawn knew better than to inquire. She also knew better than to touch the leftover meat until she had disappeared from her stepparents’ sight. When she prepared the cured ham for the evening meal, she and Mary were allowed a single small piece for their portion. It was barely more than a few bites, but the consequences were more painful than the hunger pains if she allotted too much to herself or Mary.
“The risk should not be as great to the west, should it?” Their stepmother finally broke her silence with a tiny wisp of a voice.
“No.” Her stepfather bit out the answer. “The fighting is to the north.”
Dawn paused. What could they mean? They were supposed to be traveling north, to Bryan’s Station. She glanced at Mary, who met her gaze but gave nothing away. It would not behoove her to ask, though, so she attempted to cast the thought from her mind and turned toward the creek. But a nagging weight in her middle stopped her after several steps. This journey was all for naught if they were not headed toward Bryan’s Station. If they were going west… She had to be sure.
“Are we not headed north?” Her voice cracked with disuse.
Her stepfather cut his eyes at her, then a vicious smile slowly spread across his face. “No. We are not.”
Dawn swallowed. “I…I thought we were going to Bryan’s Station.”
Her stepfather chuckled. A hollow, evil sound. “Yes. Yes, that is what you thought. Melvina was adamant that she wanted her servants to come west with us, so you were told what you needed to hear in order for you to agree to coming.” He raised his brows as though to challenge her.
Dawn’s mouth hung open. It was all a hoax. There was no Bryan’s Station, no hope for her and Mary at the end of the journey. Only a bleak, desolate future serving their stepparents. Dawn’s body began to shake. She took a tentative step backward, but the dishes slipped from where she had them perched and went clattering to the ground. Before she could bend to regather them, her stepfather rose with his fists clenched at his sides.
“You imbecile,” he raged. “You think you have an ounce of say as to what happens in this household when you cannot even hold on to a few dishes? You should be grateful we even allow you employment as a servant.”
Fire crept up the back of Dawn’s neck and into her cheeks. Simply knowing where she stood with the man who was supposed to be her stepfather was much different than hearing his words of hatred spewed at her. Never in all her years growing up had she ever imagined she would end up in such a position. Her father had always taught her how to see past her birth defect to her beauty as a daughter of God. Dawn closed her eyes. How could this be her life?
A tear slipped down her cheek. No, she could not give up yet. “What about Mary? What about her uncle?”
“That child is better off to learn what hard work is now. It will give her a purpose, so she can have a future.”
Dawn’s own fingers curled into a fist. “A future,” she scoffed, before she even realized what she was doing.
The next thing she knew, pain seared through the left side of her face and rang through her ears as her stepfather’s hand collided with her head. She staggered backward a step and blinked up at his face, contorted with rage. Mary crept up behind her and slipped her tiny hand into hers.
“How dare you?—”
A blur of color came from her left and tackled her stepfather to the ground. She and Mary both shuffled backward as the two men rolled over onto the dishes. Despite the flurry of fists and feet before her, Dawn recognized the blue waistcoat from the day before. Only, the blue waistcoat was attached to the face of the man who had offered his assistance earlier that day, a face from her past. “Jacob!”
Jacob had come to her rescue.
CHAPTER 4
Bear ye one another’s burdens, and so fulfil the law of Christ.
GALATIANS 6:2
“Who do you think you are? It is none of your business how I treat my servant!” Blood trickled down from the corner of the other man’s mouth, and he wiped it away with his sleeve.
Heat rushed into Jacob’s face again. His nails bit into his palms, but he held his ground instead of lunging at the man again. “Servant or not, she is a young woman. And she deserves to be treated as such.”
