Be Still My Soul: The Cadence of Grace, Book 1 (11 page)

Thunder crashed as Lonnie forced herself to put one tired foot in front of the other. They had been moving at a rapid pace for two days now. She fanned herself with her hand but found no relief from the stifling humidity. She drew in thick, moist air, and when a cold drop struck her skin, she peered up at the sky.

Gideon nodded toward charcoal-gray clouds. “Likely to be a lightnin’ storm. It’ll be pourin’ before long.” When a rustling came from nearby bushes, he switched his gun to his other hand and pressed the wooden stock to his shoulder. A small rabbit darted forward.

Lonnie’s hands flew to her ears, but not before he pulled the trigger. The sound of the shot ricocheted between the trees. Slowly, Gideon walked over to his kill and shook his head. “That didn’t turn out well.”

Lonnie snorted. “What did you think was gonna happen? Large gun, small rabbit.” Her brows furrowed. “Maybe next time you should use a slingshot.”

He flashed her an annoyed look. She laughed, then hiccupped.

Gideon shook his head. “It’s not funny.”

“Depends on who you ask.”

Shadows disappeared from the forest floor, replaced with a cool cover of gray light. As if startled by the coming storm, a pile of red and gold leaves stirred from their resting place, twirling in a dizzy circle. Several cartwheeled away, settling at her feet as Lonnie passed over them.

“Come on.” He tossed his head in the direction they were going.

She watched Gideon’s worn-out boots tread the ground in front of her, and it took two of her steps to keep up with each long stride. Still smiling, she smeared her hand down her arm as raindrops rinsed her skin. The trees blew helplessly in the breeze. The slender branches rocked and swayed.

It was not long before rain fell in heavy sheets, and Lonnie found herself huddled beside Gideon under the shelter of a steep boulder. The stone rose tall amongst the black oaks and curved over to form a roof.

She pulled her knees to her chest and sighed. Her soaked dress clung to her legs, and she tugged at it in a vain attempt to reshape the fabric. When that failed, she leaned her head back against the stone and closed her eyes. Her throat was hot, and she swallowed the sour taste in her mouth. A drop slipped down her cheek, and she brushed it away.

“You all right?” Gideon asked, his voice no more than a murmur.

She stared out into the pelting rain. Her skin felt hot and cold at the same time. Through burning eyes, she glanced at her husband. “I think so. I just feel … funny.”

He studied her for a moment without speaking. “I’m soaked through. How ’bout you?” He seemed to study his hands, where lingering drops of water pooled and dripped down his forearms.

“Pretty much.”

A bolt of lightning split the darkened sky, and they startled in unison.

Gideon cleared his throat. “Wish this rain would stop.” He ran a soaked sleeve over his dripping brow, then caught the water that trickled down the side of his face.

Lonnie nestled against the rock. Their arms touched. Too tired to move away, she let her eyes fall closed.

As if sensing her weakness, Gideon spoke up. “We’ll rest awhile. Doesn’t look like we’ll be movin’ on anytime soon.”

Eyes still closed, she nodded softly and listened as he fidgeted with his things. He rustled for a minute or two, then she heard the melancholy hum of his mandolin over the rain.

Although wet and uncomfortable, Lonnie rested her cheek against her shoulder. The sound of Gideon’s voice whispering a song she did not know lulled her. His elbow gently bumped her side as he plucked the strings on his mandolin. He sang in a soft, throaty whisper, filling her with a surprising amount of peace. Even if she had the strength to join in, she wouldn’t. She didn’t like the idea of him hearing her sing. Songs were so much more than words put together to music. Singing was for showing joy.

It was something she’d only ever done with Aunt Sarah. Something her pa clearly overlooked when he had forced her on that stage. Besides, she didn’t like the melancholy songs she heard now and again. Life could be rotten enough. She didn’t see the point of putting heartache to music. She’d never voice that to Gideon. He wouldn’t understand.

Her head nodded to the side, and her cheek rested against Gideon’s shoulder. Too tired to move, she fell asleep.

When she woke, the rain had stopped and the damp forest held a musty scent. Gideon hadn’t moved from her side. She lifted her head from his shoulder, and her cheek cooled. She glanced into his face to see if he had minded, but he seemed to be studying the rain-blackened trees; the stony set to his features revealed nothing. The trees seemed to stretch their limbs higher to the sky, as if to thank God for the long cool drink. Birds called out in cheerful song.

“We’ve lost several hours.” Gideon stood and brushed the leaves from his pants.

Lonnie wondered if they would make camp before long. The last thing she wanted to do was walk through the night, but when Gideon stretched in the filtered sunlight and tossed his pack over his shoulders, she forced herself from her nest.

Her stomach growled, and she longed for a bowl of stew and a plate of steaming cornbread drenched in butter. Her mouth watered, and she chided herself for her daydreams. Besides, the O’Riley cupboards had been nearly bare. They hadn’t packed much food since that wouldn’t have been right. Lonnie pulled a cold slice of bread from the pack and broke it in half, fighting the urge to hang on to the larger piece. They ate in silence as they walked along, her feet falling in sync behind his, their rhythmic footsteps just a touch apart.

G
ideon peered at the log cabin. Wind pulled smoke from the chimney, sweeping it to the east.

“You think anybody’s home?” Lonnie fiddled with the buttons on her sweater, trying to slide them into place.

“Hope so.” He took a deep breath, then stepped out of the trees. Leaves crunched as she followed behind. He stopped when the front door opened. A young man emerged.

The man hooked his thumbs in his pockets. “You folks lookin’ for something?” He leaned against the doorjamb and crossed one foot over the other. Gideon studied him and realized he was near to his own age, but the man looked superior, standing up on his own porch, able to run a stranger off his property with the slightest inclination.

Squaring his shoulders, Gideon chose his words carefully. “Yessir.” He tugged his floppy hat away from his unruly hair, then suddenly thought the wiser of it. “We were wondering … Well, my wife and I were wondering if perhaps … we could have … um, borrow a bite of food.” He cleared his throat. “You see, we’ve come down from Rocky Knob, and we’ve been travelin’ for a couple days.”

The man narrowed his gaze. “Borrow a bite of food, huh?” He glanced into his cabin and puffed his cheeks.

Gideon shifted.

“Don’t know about
borrow
.” The man motioned to someone inside, then turned his attention back to Gideon. “But I sure could give you some. We got a bit to spare. You wanna come in?” His hand spread flat against the door, and it creaked open until it thudded into the wall.

When Lonnie’s face brightened, Gideon struggled to reply. “We … we better be movin’ on, mister. We don’t have much time to linger.” Pride fed his words. He hadn’t even wanted to stop, but the gnawing in his stomach had made his feet slow when he first spotted the cabin.

“You runnin’ from something?” the man asked.

“No sir, just in a hurry, that’s all.” It wasn’t entirely the truth, but it was close enough. He didn’t care to spend too many more nights beneath the stars. The sooner they got to Stuart, the sooner he could find work and, if luck was on his side, a warm place to sleep.

The young man glanced between them, a curious expression on his face. Finally, he smiled. “Name’s Jonathan. You are welcome to some food, but I sure wish you’d come in and rest a spell. My wife can cook up a mighty fine pot of beans, and we’ve got fresh venison.”

“Gid, we could rest a bit, couldn’t we?” Lonnie’s voice was for his ears alone.

The thought of such a meal warmed him, but Gideon shook his head.

Jonathan shrugged. “Well, can you hold on just a bit while I go and fetch somethin’?”

Gideon glanced at Lonnie, then nodded. “That’d be fine. We sure do appreciate it.”

Leaving the door open, Jonathan disappeared inside.

A woman’s voice drifted out.

Tilting his head, Gideon strained to listen. When the lace curtain slid aside, a young woman peeked through the glass. He blinked but didn’t avert his gaze.

Jonathan returned with a handful of brown eggs and a tin can. “Beans.” He lifted the offering. “Take these.” His boots pounded the steps.

Cradling the eggs as best he could, Gideon passed them to Lonnie, who clutched them delicately. He pressed the tin can to his chest. The beans were still warm and fragrant with the smell of molasses and pepper.

“Sorry it’s not more.” Jonathan pulled another tin from the crook of his elbow. “Here’s applesauce. My wife insisted you take it.”

He handed the can to Lonnie, followed by a spoon, and she dipped it into the apple mush. The bent spoon clanged inside the can. After a few bites, Lonnie offered the rest to Gideon.

He felt Lonnie’s frown on him, and when he looked at her, he saw something more in her eyes. Hurt. Gideon shifted. It was just like a woman to be difficult. The sooner she realized he had her best interest in mind, the better.

He ate quickly, then glanced at the window. “Tell your wife she’s got the best applesauce I’ve ever tasted.”

Jonathan grinned. “I’ll tell her.”

Still savoring the taste on his tongue, Gideon tipped his hat. “Guess we’ll be on our way now. Sure do appreciate you and your wife’s generosity.”

“Sure you won’t stay for supper?” Jonathan tossed a thumb toward his house.

It pained Gideon to turn down such an offer. The more the man asked, the more tempting the idea became. “We should really be movin’ on.” His eyes flicked to the window.

Jonathan accepted the empty can. “Suit yourself.” He turned when his wife appeared in the doorway.

Her blond hair, slicked back in a tight and shiny bun, spoke of a fresh bath. She smoothed the apron that covered her well-worn dress and smiled, showing a tidy row of white teeth.

“Ma’am.” Gideon tapped the brim of his hat, sending a spatter of moisture up and away. He studied her pretty face longer than he should have, then dropped his gaze. For an instant, he wished he had taken the man up on his offer to stay for supper. Lonnie cleared her throat. He looked at her and wished he hadn’t when he saw the pain that flitted through her brown eyes. Gideon waved good-bye to Jonathan and walked off.

Lonnie walked behind him. “Sure was nice of them to give us fresh eggs.” She spoke softly, and when he didn’t respond, she sighed. “I’m surprised you didn’t want to go in. I half expected you to change your mind.” Her tone pierced him.

Gideon pinned her with his gaze. She returned his stare. Not much got past her. He’d have to keep that in mind.

Her shoulders seemed heavier, but Gideon refused to let it dampen his spirits. Turning, he glanced past Lonnie to the porch and licked the sweet taste of applesauce from his lips.

They walked for several hours, and he couldn’t help but notice that Lonnie didn’t say a word. When they stopped to make camp that night, Gideon gathered scraps of wood, a few dry twigs, and a handful of crisp oak leaves. It wasn’t cold, but he couldn’t shake the thought of fried
eggs. As he knelt before his makeshift firepit, Lonnie spread out the bedroll. She curled onto her side and closed her eyes.

Gideon pulled the small pan from his pack and set it near the flames. He sat back on his haunches. “We gonna have these eggs tonight?”

Lonnie shrugged. “I’ve lost my appetite.” She didn’t look at him. “That food didn’t sit right on my stomach.”

After the look she’d given him earlier, he was certain there was more to it. A muscle clenched in his jaw. Using his fingertips, he twirled two eggs across his open palm, willing himself not to crush the delicate shells under the weight of his irritation. “Suit yourself,” he mumbled into the fire.

“We could have them for breakfast.”

Gideon drew in a slow steady breath. “Sure, that’d be fine.” He carefully wrapped the eggs and tucked the precious bundle in the pack. They might break, and it would have all been a waste. He shook his head.

Lonnie stretched out her legs and crossed her ankles. She placed a tender hand on her stomach and closed her eyes. Gideon studied her pale face. He had noticed that her steps had slowed, and her breathing sounded strained as they walked.

His stomach grumbled, and he worked his way through what remained of the beans. He cleaned the last cold bite out before realizing he should have rationed them. But the comfort of a full stomach had blurred his judgment. His spoon clanged when he dropped it into the empty tin. Gnawing on the inside of his cheek, Gideon glanced at Lonnie. With her eyes closed, she seemed more at peace than she had in days. Annoyed with himself, and still hungry, he worked his jaw and stared into the flames.

Lonnie blinked against the early morning light. She sat up slowly and glanced down at Gideon, whose face rested atop his outstretched arm. Careful not to disturb him, she rose and checked the fire. She stirred the ashes with a brittle stick and, blowing on the last remaining embers, managed to revive it.