Brides of Idaho (27 page)

He let out a
tsk.
“You are one mistrustful woman. Fact is, it never crossed my mind.” He tipped his head one way and then the other as he studied her house. “Looks a little askew to me.”

“It’s a good enough house for me. I guarantee it won’t disintegrate in the wind or the snow. What it lacks in beauty it makes up for in strength.”

He had the gall to laugh openly.

“A gentleman would show more respect.”

“Ah, but you forget, I’m really the big bad wolf.” He puffed out his cheeks and blew at her house then faced her, his gaze filled with teasing.

She gasped. Not because he pretended to blow her house down but because like sunlight on water, his eyes flashed with blue brightness, allowing her to see something she’d not noticed before.

The man was as handsome as any man she’d ever seen. And when he smiled like that, he seemed to make the world a happy place.

She forced her unwilling attention to something beyond his left shoulder. Tried to think what she was supposed to be doing. Her gaze settled on the ax. Then the walls of her house. Drifted onward to the hill beyond, where the trees glistened with heat and birds twittered softly. A chickadee flitted between branches seeking food for her nestlings.

Food. Mandy’s thoughts slowly righted themselves. “Time for me to go. The stopping house is in need of fresh meat.” She brought her gaze back to Trace, relieved to see he had returned to his usual guarded look. “See you tomorrow. Bye, Cora,” she called.

“Bye.” Surprise filled the single word coming from the tent.

Mandy strode off, grinning, though for the life of her she couldn’t explain why.

A little later she took game to Joanna then slipped noiselessly back up the narrow trail toward Trace and Cora’s camp. She circled to a hill overlooking the site where she knew Trace wouldn’t bother her. The trees there were too small for him to want to chop down. The brush allowed her to edge close to the clearing for a good view.

She found a spot allowing her to see the front of the tent and settled back to watch.

Trace worked on a log. Did the man ever leave off building the house?

Mandy measured his progress, checked it against what she’d accomplished earlier, and nodded. She still held her own.

There was no sign of Cora. Surely she didn’t remain in the tent after Mandy left. But Trace seemed to be talking to someone.

Mandy edged to her left until she could see around the log wall. Cora was there all right, sitting with her back to the wall, plucking blades of grass and examining them. Her mouth moved as she talked to Trace, but Mandy was too far away to hear her, and she’d never learned to read lips. Too bad. It would have come in handy at the moment.

Trace dragged the log to the wall, rolled it into place. He dusted his hands as he stood back and admired his work, obviously well pleased with his efforts.

Huh. It was way too soon for him to think he could gloat.

He took his horse and headed back up the hill for another log. Good. Now she could watch Cora without the distraction of Trace.

She edged closer until she couldn’t go any farther without fear of discovery. Cora still sat against the log wall, her bonnet practically covering her face.

In the distance, the ringing of an ax informed her of Trace’s whereabouts. The thump of a falling tree soon followed. He would be busy trimming and barking it for some time.

Mandy simply had to wait and watch Cora.

Cora stretched her arms skyward as if embracing the world or imploring God to change it. Mandy couldn’t say which. A breeze fluttered the leaves. Cora shoved her bonnet to her shoulders and shook her head as if inviting a breath of coolness. She bent to get a pot off the ground and take it to the fire where she hung it to cook the contents.

That’s when Mandy saw her face. One cheek beautiful as china. The other red and puckered.

“Oh no.”
She mouthed the words.
So this is what she doesn’t want people to see.

“I guessed you wouldn’t let it go.”

She jumped to her feet like a frightened deer and jerked around to stare at Trace. “Where did you come from?”

“You’re not the only one who can tiptoe through the trees.” His narrowed eyes warned he wasn’t pleased to see her.

She saw his anger and something more. Something that made her want to reach out and touch him, assure him things weren’t as bad as he and Cora seemed to think. But tension vibrated through him, and she knew any sudden movement on her part would bring forth some sort of eruption. Instead, she leaned back, hoping her attempt to appear relaxed would neutralize his tautness.

“Now you know why she doesn’t want anyone to see her.”

She nodded. “What happened?”

“She was burned.”

“How dreadful for her.”

“She will never forget it. And if she tried, neither her mirror nor other people’s stares would let her.”

“I didn’t mean her scar. I meant being burned. It must have been painful.”

“More than you can imagine.” His eyes lost their anger and flooded with despair. “She deserves to be left alone.”

“Deserves? Or do you mean desires? But she’s a beautiful young woman. I can’t imagine she wants to spend the rest of her life hiding.”

“What she wants and what she has to deal with are entirely different things.”

Mandy sat on the ground, cushioned with old leaves and pine needles, and turned to watch Cora.

“Can’t you show a little decency and leave us in peace?”

“I’m not bothering anyone. Just sitting here enjoying the afternoon shade.” She wanted to say something more, but she didn’t even know what it was. She needed time to clarify her thoughts and put them into words. “You’re welcome to join me.” She patted the ground beside her.

He grunted. Or was it a groan? “What have I done that deserves this kind of torture?”

“Are you referring to the heat? Or the flies? Maybe the work of building a house?” She knew he meant none of those things, but she would not give him the satisfaction of acknowledging what he meant.

“I mean you. From the first day you have tormented me.”

She grinned up at him. “You’re just sore because I upset your plans.”

“I couldn’t have said it better.” But the anger and despair fled. He glanced at the spot she’d indicated beside her and shrugged as if to say he didn’t have much choice because he expected she wouldn’t leave him any peace until he sat. With a great show of reluctance he joined her. “I don’t suppose it would do any good to suggest you forget you’ve seen her.”

“Why would I want to forget it?”

“She doesn’t want people to know.”

She understood he meant know about her disfiguring scars, but she wouldn’t accept it. “I am not repulsed by her face, if that’s what you expect.”

He didn’t say anything, which she found oddly touching. But when she turned to study him, his face was a mask of disbelief.

“Her face is scarred horribly.”

“Only part of one cheek, not her whole face. And it’s only a tiny fraction of her physical body and nothing to do with who she is.”

“Huh.”

“I’ve seen people who are whole and even beautiful, but their spirits are scarred terribly by greed or bitterness or cruelty. I’ve seen people who are ugly and deformed but have such an inner beauty you never think about how they look.” The words she’d been trying to sort out tumbled forth in a tangled rush. “Where we once lived there was a bent little man who had a hump in his back and one side of his face twisted all out of sorts, but Old Terry was the sweetest person I’ve ever known.” Her voice tightened, revealing how fond she had been of the old man. “He understood how three girls forced to live with an unwelcome family could feel abandoned and unloved. So every day as we walked to school, Old Terry would meet us. He’d walk a little ways with us. We had to slow down for him to keep up, and he only went a short distance before he was out of breath. But every day he gave us something. Maybe only a pretty rock to put in our pockets.”

She sniffed, hoping he wouldn’t notice as unshed tears clogged her nose. It had been a long time since she’d thought of Old Terry, and she wondered how she could have forgotten him and the lessons he’d taught them—like finding happiness and joy in little things, accepting the bad without letting it destroy them. If only she could make Trace and Cora see life like Old Terry had. “Sometimes he found a wildflower or a bit of pretty glass. Many times it was only a kind word, a reminder of better things.”

She’d been lounging over her knees but suddenly sat up straight and blinked back her threatening tears. “I just remembered. One thing Old Terry would bring us was Bible verses written on a scrap of paper. I used to keep them in a little cigar box.” She turned to look at Trace. “I can’t believe I forgot that.” A sudden rush of memories washed over her. “He said we should always trust God no matter what happened, believe God had nothing but good planned for us.”

Trace watched her closely, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. But she saw something more and recognized it as the same mixture of despair and hope Old Terry had noticed in her and her sisters.

“I remember the verse he gave us one day and made us promise to memorize. For days afterward he would make us repeat it until we could say it easily.”

“What verse was that?” Trace’s voice sounded as thick as hers had felt a few seconds ago. “Do you still remember it?”

“As if I could forget. Jeremiah twenty-nine, verse eleven. ‘For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the Lord, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end.’ He said it meant God had nothing but good for us in His thoughts.”

Trace’s gaze held her firm. Searching, hoping, delving into her heart as if seeking some balm there.

She let him look his full, prayed God would comfort and encourage him with the verse as it had her when Old Terry gave it to her.

He blinked and shook his head. “Hard to believe God has anything good in mind in what happened to Cora.”

“Let me meet her. Really meet her.”

“I can’t do that. I promised to protect her.”

“By hiding her?”

He closed his eyes as if to shut out her demands.

“She shouldn’t hide from people. What a lonely life. I would think it might be a worse fate than being burned.”

“Mandy.” He groaned. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, I do. For instance, if Old Terry had hidden just because some people were unkind… Some threw rocks at him and called him a devil. But if he’d let them turn him into a recluse, who would have helped and encouraged three lonely girls?” She touched Trace’s arm in an appeal to give her words consideration. “Let me meet her.”

He covered her hand with his, a warm sense of connection flowing through her arm to her heart. She wanted to help him, ease his pain, help Cora.

“You almost persuade me, but it’s not my decision.”

“You know, I can steal in silently and meet her if you don’t warn her of my approach.”

“And be a traitor to my own sister?” He shook her hand off and scrambled to his feet. “If she can’t trust her own brother, who can she trust?”

“She can trust me. You can, too.”

He bent close. “Can I trust you to respect Cora’s desire to be left alone?”

She rose to her feet to face him squarely. “I will not agree to something I am so opposed to.”

“Then don’t ask me to trust you.” He stomped into the woods and disappeared.

She stood still for a moment then nodded, having come to a firm decision.

She would not take no for an answer.

He heard her following him. Obviously she meant him to, or she wouldn’t have made so much noise. He returned to where he’d left the horse, but he wouldn’t go back to the camp with Mandy trailing after him like a lost dog. He faced her. “Why are you following me?” The stubborn set of her jaw made him want to grind his teeth. With two steps he closed the distance between them and grabbed her shoulders to shake her. “Mandy, leave us alone.”

Awareness hit him on several levels. Her shoulders were firm. Muscles twitched beneath his palms. She was a strong woman, and he meant both physically and morally. He stopped shaking her but did not pull his hands away.

She pressed her hands to his shoulders in a manner imitating the way he’d captured her, and he wondered if she felt aggravation as well or something else. Her expression hinted at patience and understanding.

“Trace, if I came across an injured animal in the woods, I would not walk away until I’d done all I could to help it.” Her smile flashed with unspoken promises. “Why would I do any less for a hurting person?”

He forced words from his thick brain. “Because people have the ability to say whether or not they want help.”

She nodded, holding his gaze in an unrelenting grasp.

He couldn’t break away even if he tried. But he discovered he didn’t want to. Something in her look offered him hope, healing, or… He couldn’t say what. He didn’t try to make sense of his mixed-up thoughts.

She patted one shoulder. “You know I won’t let this go, so you might as well accept it.”

He shifted his gaze, freeing himself from her power. “It isn’t just about you and me. It’s Cora and her wishes.”