Chapter 43 #2
“Ugh, I’m sorry.” Laughing, Josephine wiped her hands on a towel she’d found in the cupboard. “I can’t seem to hold on to anything.”
Bethie pointed. “I think it went over there.”
Josephine peered beneath the bed and spotted the bar of soap.
Retrieving it, she noticed other items beneath the bed, too—a sewing basket with scraps of material and spools of thread, a brush and mirror, a small jar of scented water, and—she squinted—a blue metal pitcher holding dried flowers, brittle with age.
She instantly knew who they’d belonged to.
“Found it!” She held up the soap, not wishing to intrude on Bethie’s hidden memories of her mother. “Do you know if y’all have castor oil or lard? The soap isn’t quite doing the job.”
“There’s lard in the kitchen. On the bottom shelf.”
Josephine returned with it, worked a little between her fingers and gently coaxed it through the tangles. Slowly, one by one, the burrs loosened and slipped free.
“How did you learn to climb trees?” Bethie asked after a minute.
Maybe because Bethie was the one asking, Josephine hesitated only a heartbeat. “My brother taught me.”
“You have a brother?” Excitement tinged her voice.
“Yes . . . I did.”
Bethie’s head turned slightly.
“Todd died about two years ago.”
A long moment passed.
“How did he die?”
Unexpected emotion tightened Josephine’s throat. “He was trying to help someone, and he got hurt.”
Another pause.
“So he didn’t teach you about guns? Like Uncle Dodge taught Mama? And then me?”
“Our father and mother were pacifists. Do you know what that is?”
Bethie shook her head.
“A pacifist is someone who believes in avoiding all forms of violence, including war, and sometimes even self-defense. My father didn’t approve of guns, so he forbade my brother and me from learning about them.” She almost added that Todd had done it anyway, then quickly decided against it.
“Was he older or younger than you?”
“Older. By seven minutes.”
Bethie turned fully around, brow furrowed. “You were twins?”
Josephine nodded. “And Todd wasn’t just my brother. He was—” She looked away. “My best friend.”
“And you miss him.” Bethie’s voice went soft.
“Every. Single. Day.”
Bethie held her gaze then faced forward, but not before Josephine glimpsed the girl’s own grief in those beautiful blue eyes.
Josephine worked the last burr free, lathered Bethie’s hair once more, then rinsed it clean. “There. I think we got them all.” She ran a brush through to be sure, then towel dried Bethie’s hair.
“Maybe if your brother had had a gun . . .”
Bethie didn’t finish the sentence, but Josephine understood.
“Perhaps that would have made a difference, Bethie, but . . . I don’t know.”
The devastation surrounding Todd’s death replayed, and led, as it always did, back to Mayor Darden. Once men like him decided something, undoing it felt like holding back the tide. And though nothing had appeared in the newspapers yet, she could feel her time here wearing thin.
She held up the towel as Bethie stepped from the tub, then looked away to allow privacy.
“My nightgown’s hanging over there . . . please.”
Josephine retrieved it from the hook and helped her slip it on.
“I bet your papa feels bad now . . . About not letting your brother learn to shoot.”
Josephine held open the left sleeve as Bethie slid her arm through, the movement drawing a grimace.
“My parents are gone now, too. They both died a few months after Todd.”
Bethie stilled. “So you ain’t got any family left?”
“Haven’t got any family,” Josephine gently corrected, knowing Dodge would have if he’d been here. “And no, I don’t. Except for my husband, of course,” she added quickly, hating the lie.
Bethie exhaled. “I’m never getting married.”
On the verge of asking why, Josephine held back.
She knew why. Children saw more than adults realized.
Like the way Bethie looked at her now, not seeing her but the violence she’d endured at the hands of a man.
She didn’t know how to respond. She wondered what Kathleen, or even Dodge, had told Bethie about the situation surrounding her birth. And then it came to her . . .
“Bethie, we shouldn’t judge all men by one.
There are good men in this world. So to judge them as all being the same isn’t fair to them.
Just like not all women, or girls, are the same.
” Though she wanted to share more of what Nannie Burroughs and Miss Anthony taught about God creating men and women equally, she didn’t.
She’d given Dodge her word she’d steer clear of planting any suffrage-related ideas in Bethie’s head.
She buttoned the gown as Bethie yawned. “Why don’t you leave your right arm inside. It’ll hurt too much otherwise, and you don’t need to be using it anyway. I can make a sling.”
“How do you know about doctoring an arm?”
“I fell out of a tree when I was about your age. Same arm, too.”
“So yours got better?”
“Oh, yes, as will yours.” Josephine wagged a finger. “But only because I let it heal. Which means resting. I’ll find something for a sling. Is there anything else you need?”
“I’m kind of hungry. I’ve got jerky in my satchel.”
“I’ll be right back.”
She found the bag of jerky and hoped it was the same kind Dodge had shared with her early on because she was hungry, too. A brief search in the cupboard yielded an old flour sack, softened by years of washing.
After a few awkward but humorous moments fitting the sling beneath Bethie’s gown and around her neck, Josephine plumped the pillows on the girl’s bed, and Bethie sank back, looking spent.
Josephine handed her a piece of jerky. “Mind if I have some, too?”
“Help yourself,” Bethie mumbled as she tore off a piece with her teeth.
The flavors exploded in Josephine’s mouth, carrying her back to that wagon ride from Tullahoma with Dodge. Not even three weeks ago, though it felt far longer.
The creak of a door drew their gaze toward the main room, and Bethie quickly pulled the bedsheet up to her chin.
“Bethie, I’m back! Sorry, honey, took longer than I thought.”
“We’re in here, Uncle Dodge!”
Panting, Jessie, her fur damp, padded in and dropped beside the foot of the bed.
“Mrs. Dunham . . .” Pleasant surprise swept Dodge’s expression. “You’re still here.”
Josephine hurriedly finished chewing. “Yes, but I’m just leaving. I need to get back in time to clean up and help with supper.”
He glanced at her skirt. “Miss Mary doesn’t like remnants of wild boar on her tenants’ clothing?”
Josephine laughed.
“And you’ve already had your bath,” he said, looking at Bethie.
“I just figured I’d get it done.” Bethie tore off another piece of jerky.
It was clear Bethie didn’t want him to know how badly her arm hurt. But why?
“Bethie was sharing some of her jerky with me, which tastes just like what you gave me before. It’s so good!”
“Uncle Dodge makes it himself.”
“So I’ve heard.”
He just laughed.
“He’s been making it for years!”
“Mmmm . . . Well, it’s delicious, Mr. Coburn. And I believe I asked for the recipe.”
Bethie perked up. “I can tell you what’s in it. I help him make it.”
Dodge cleared his throat. “We best save that for another time and let Mrs. Dunham be on her way. Here, let me walk you out.”
On the porch, Josephine smiled. “You really don’t want to share that recipe.”
“I will. I promise. It’s just a bit . . . detailed and I don’t want you to be late.” His voice lowered. “Thank you for staying with her. I could tell on the way back she wasn’t feeling well. She’s a tough little thing. Doesn’t like to let on when she’s hurting.”
“While she didn’t tell me outright not to tell you, I sense she doesn’t want you to know her arm is worse than she let on.
I was surprised when she asked me to stay and help her with her bath.
Then when I saw her arm, I—” Suddenly things became clearer.
She had to smile. “I think I know why she doesn’t want you knowing. ”
She looked pointedly at him, but he just stared.
“Dodge, she wanted me to help her with her bath . . .”
Slowly, his quizzical look faded and a shy smile took its place. “Ah . . . Say no more. And now I really do thank you for staying.”
They both laughed, and the genuineness of his reaction was so endearing. So attractive. Even though neither of them moved, she would’ve sworn the space between them lessened by half, and the warmth in his eyes sparked a flame inside her.
“Josephine, I—”
She moved toward the front steps. “She’s in pain, Dodge. There’s some swelling and a nasty bruise is forming. I’ve made her a sling but if there’s any way to get Doc Wyatt to look at it tonight, I would.”
He didn’t respond for a moment, then finally nodded. “He’s still in the barn. I’ll get him. And . . . I’m sorry about what happened today. In the field. Thank you again for helping Bethie.”
“You’re welcome again. And there’s no need to apologize, about any of it.
” She let her gaze travel the length of the lush green hills that embraced the town of Lynchburg.
“This was actually one of the best days I’ve had in a very, very long time.
” She started down the steps, then turned back. “And for the record, you were right.”
His brow rose.
“The first day we met you said a rifle could mean the difference between life and death in these hills. I didn’t believe you then. But I do now.”