Texas Angel, 2-in-1 (12 page)

“Come with me, Rebekah,” Benjamin said tightly.

“That won’t be necessary.” Liz fairly spun around on the heel of her shoe and swept away.

Rebekah secretly applauded the woman for her hauteur. “Benjamin, that was terribly rude of you,” Rebekah said boldly.

“I will give you the benefit of ignorance. You simply cannot understand about that woman.”

“I understand that she is a decent woman in need.”

“Decent!” He clamped his hand around her elbow and began to propel her away. “This is not the place to discuss such a matter.”

Rebekah noted that several more passengers had ventured onto the deck and were in close proximity. She let Benjamin lead her to a private alcove near the dining hall where there was a small table and two upholstered chairs.

“Sit down,” he ordered, scolding her as if she were one of the children.

She hesitated stubbornly but could tell by the glint in his eyes, like ice shaved from a pond, and by the adamant way in which his arms were crossed that she could not win a battle of wills with him. She seldom could. She sat on the very edge of the chair. If he was going to treat her like an errant child, she would behave as one. She faced him silently while he took the adjacent chair.

“Rebekah, it is my duty as your husband to protect you from the evils of this world.” His tone remained stern, but the rebuke was gone. “You are of a genteel, well-meaning nature, but your weakness is to place these above good sense. However, even that cannot be placed to your account in this particular matter.”

“I don’t understand what you are getting at.” She was more confused than ever.

“Rebekah . . .” he sighed her name in a more benevolent way. “You simply must be more careful in your associations. That is why you have a husband to determine these things for you.”

Ignoring the last part of his statement, which grated on her in its own right, she said, “Benjamin, you have never been a snob, nor have you looked down on others for their stations. You have your faults, Benjamin, but that is not one of them. You are a fair man.”

“You should know I would never tolerate sin!”

“What has sin to do with this? Slavery is a sin. And I feel it is my God-given duty to reach out a hand of kindness to those who have been so abused.” He could not possibly fault her argument.

“Slavery? That has nothing to do with this.” He shifted in his chair, suddenly looking very uncomfortable himself. “I shudder at having to discuss such a delicate matter with you, and that alone makes me furious at the woman for forcing me to do it. You should not have to be confronted with such things.” He paused, glancing around as if seeking rescue. Finding none, he continued. “The woman you helped, Rebekah, is a . . . a . . . a woman of . . . well . . . ill repute.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Surely even you are not so naïve. That woman . . . entertains men!”

Rebekah’s brow knit, revealing her perplexion. Then suddenly understanding dawned upon her. With a gasp, her hand shot to her mouth in shock.

“No!”

Letting out a relieved sigh that he would not have to give a more detailed explanation, Benjamin nodded. “Now you can understand why I was so upset that you socialized with her in any manner.”

“But, Benjamin, if she is a slave, does she have any choice in the matter?”

“There are women in Boston, free women, of whom the same could be said. Whether willful or not, what they are doing is sin. If they had a true heart for God, if they cared for their immortal souls, they would do anything to avoid committing this terrible sin.”

“But—“ Rebekah stopped. She wanted to argue that there were ways in which women could be forced into such behavior, which she thought even God might forgive. She wanted to say that men held such a dominance over women she could fully understand how one could fall into, or be forced into, such behavior. But she held her tongue, for the words smacked too much of rebellion, which she knew would enrage her husband. Best not to antagonize him.

She decided upon a different tack. “Benjamin, if they are sinners, isn’t it our duty as Christians to minister to them?” She spoke sweetly, smiling innocently.

“There are those who are called to minister to such people.
You
are not one of them.”

“What if I felt God were calling me—”

“I’ll tell you what God is calling you to!”

“But—”

“Don’t argue with me, Rebekah. Your only duty is to do as I say. And I am telling you I do not want you to associate with that woman or any like her.”

“Her child was sick. I could not refuse.”

Relenting slightly, he said, “Then I will act as a go-between. If I am not present, you must refuse.”

Sighing helplessly, Rebekah nodded. Just as there were ways a man could dominate a woman, there were ways a woman could find around them. Subtlety was one of them. It might not always work for women like Liz, but Rebekah found it served her in some instances. She would agree with her husband, then do what she wished, accepting the inevitability of a tongue-lashing later.

“I best see to the children,” she said, rising.

He stood also. “I am glad we have come to an understanding, Rebekah. I will remember to pray that God gives you strength in these things.”

“Thank you, Benjamin.” As they reached the companionway to the lower deck, she paused. “Benjamin, are you certain she is really that kind of woman?”

“Yes, of course I am.”

“Oh my!” She continued down the stairway. She could not help being in just a little awe. She had been raised to think of such women as next to Satan himself. To have actually spoken to one, to have touched one—she didn’t know what to think. Liz seemed like such a sweet, gentle girl. She was no monster bent on driving decent men into perdition. Maybe she was a sinner, but the Bible said that all have sinned.

Even I am a sinner, she thought. She wondered if the sin Liz committed was worse than the sin of bitterness and anger Rebekah held in her heart. She dare not ask her husband. She also dare not tell him she had given that woman the New Testament he gave her for their engagement.

Elise rose in response to the knock on her cabin door. She supposed it must be the steward with water, though she thought she had told him his services would no longer be necessary. She could barely hide her shock when she opened the door and saw Rev. Sinclair. On their three previous encounters, she had been too flustered to really take note of this man who was becoming rather a nuisance, if not a thorn in her flesh.

She had to admit he had a handsome appearance that could have been rather disarming if he would allow his taut lips and disapproving scowl to relax. Since seeing him on the deck with his wife, she had wondered how such a sweet, gentle-natured woman like Rebekah could have fallen in love with such a man. She decided the marriage must have been arranged and poor Rebekah had had no say in it.

However, a closer look made Elise think there might have been a time when Rev. Sinclair was a young man of humor, perhaps even a romantic. If he chose to smile, even laugh, he could well have won the heart of a young lady. Too bad that whatever inclination he might have had toward humor was gone now. Too bad, especially because Elise felt certain that dour bearing was about to be leveled upon her.

“Reverend Sinclair, may I help you?”

“I feel led to speak with you.” His gaze flicked briefly over her shoulder then back to her face. He was obviously nervous, his hands twisting the book he held. But his voice was full of hauteur.

“Would you care to come in?” Though she knew it was cruel of her, his tone made her relish the slight lilt in her voice and the very subtle innuendo to the invitation.

This time he refused to be flustered. “I think it would be best to talk here in the corridor.”

“As you wish. One moment, please.” She went back into the room and securely tucked a blanket around Hannah, who lay sleeping on Elise’s bunk. Then, closing the door behind her, she stepped out into the hall. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?” Her lips slanted into a lopsided smile.

“I see this visit is more expedient than I thought.”

If it were possible, his mouth seemed to become even more taut and thin. Elise had an almost overwhelming urge to find a way to crack the ice of his demeanor. The last person she had seen so proud and arrogant had been Daphne Hearne. “What do you want, Reverend?” she asked more soberly, resisting the urge to goad him, to knock him down a notch, to vent on him what she had been too cowardly to do upon Mrs. Hearne.

“My wife, foolishly, perhaps, but with a sincere heart, ministered to the physical needs of your child.”

He licked his lips, and for the first time Elise realized that he might not
like
doing or saying what he felt he must.

“The Word of God clearly indicates that as the physical needs are met, so must the spiritual needs be ministered unto. My wife failed to do this.”

“You are wrong there, sir. Mrs. Sinclair very kindly spoke of God’s love and care.”

His eyebrow twitched with disdain. “My wife has a rather simplistic view of matters of the Spirit.” He lifted his hands, opened the book he held, and began to speak. “Hear the Word of God: ‘And fear not them which kill the body, but are not able to kill the soul: but rather fear him’—God, our Father—‘which is able to destroy both soul and body in hell.’ ”

Pausing, he turned several pages. Elise wondered why he even both.ered, since it was apparent he knew the words he read by heart.

“ ‘For the wages of sin is death; but the gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.’ Have you heard these words before, ma’am?”

“Would it matter if I had?” she countered defensively.

“It would matter if you cared for your soul. Do not deal lightly with the things of God. Your very soul lies in jeopardy. As the prophet Isaiah has written, ‘Your iniquities have separated between you and your God, and your sins have hid his face from you, that he will not hear.’ ”

“Thank you for informing me of this, Reverend,” she said coldly. “But I don’t need you to tell me of my failings.”

“Apparently you do. I have yet to see a repentant spirit in you.”

“And it will be a cold day in that place of which you speak so eloquently before I’d repent to you!”

“You have no right to take offense. I speak but the message of God, and I do so because I despair for your soul. Do you not care that you will burn in eternal damnation?” His face reddened with his zeal, and she actually thought he truly did care about her.

Too bad he did so with such self-righteousness, such pretension. If he did care, it was only as a god cares for the lowly minions groveling at his feet. Well, maybe she had to grovel to Maurry Thomson, but she’d never do so to this pinch-faced, vainglorious buffoon!

Glaring with all the disdain she could muster, she spit out her reply. “I never expected to do anything else but burn in hell, Reverend. Now I must see to my daughter.”

She spun on her heel to make a grand exit from their conversation, but the door latch would not respond quickly enough to her hand. Muttering a curse, she gave it a shove with her shoulder, to no avail.

Sinclair stepped forward and, without actually touching her, nudged her aside. “My door does this also.” He gave the latch a couple of tugs and jiggles and got the door to open.

“Thank you,” she said out of mere instinct, cursing herself for the words the minute they were spoken. So much for her grand exit.

“You are welcome.”

His words were spoken deliberately. Maybe he thought she was taking the opportunity of the stuck door to thank him for his sermon.

Perish the thought!

“Thank you for opening the door.” Following her pointed words, she swung inside the cabin and shut the door with what she hoped was a firm motion.

But once inside, Elise leaned against the closed door, her heart pounding as if she had just been chased by slave hunters, or worse. She heard the click of his shoes as he retreated down the hall.

“I don’t want to burn in hell or anywhere else,” she murmured.

But she supposed she would, just like he said. Surely God made no allowances for extenuating circumstances. Sin was sin whether one did it willfully or not. She was a sinner—no doubt about that. And the wages of sin is death, according to the reverend’s Bible. Then her gaze fell upon Rebekah Sinclair’s New Testament. The woman had said she should judge God by His words, not by the words of others. She wondered if Rebekah had been thinking of her husband when she’d said that.

In that case, she thought, I will read her book . . . next chance I get. Tomorrow, perhaps.

CHAPTER

15

S
AN FELIPE DE AUSTING, FORMALLY
established in 1824, just a little more than ten years ago, was situated on a pretty bluff surrounded by good land, plentiful timber, and, as evidenced by many patches of green, sufficient water. The town near the banks of the Brazos River had a population of some two or three hundred, and there were well over fifty houses. True, they were coarse buildings of unhewn logs and clapboard roofs. But it had very much the feel of an American frontier town. The residents of both San Felipe and Texas were overwhelmingly American, exemplified in the act of dropping the Mexican name of
Tejas
for the more American name of
Texas
. They even called themselves
Texians
, showing further disdain for their Mexican overlords.

Benjamin felt certain he could be content in this land. Their final destination, however, was some distance northeast of this town. But after debarking the ship in Galveston and taking a coach to San Felipe, he had deemed it prudent to rest for a couple days before undertaking the final leg of their journey.

Being so close to their destination, the two days’ wait had been excruciating for him. But Rebekah was so weary after the boat trip that she had begun to fall back into the melancholy that had lifted a bit after the birth of Leah.

Rebekah came up to him as he stood on the porch of the hotel.

“We are all packed.” The absence of even a hint of excitement in her voice made him wince.