LITMIR.BIZ

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down. Words in dialect tumbled back from the front of the caravan and the overall agitation level around her rose. She felt her mouth go dry as the porter in front of her slid the bolt on his rifle to chamber a round.

       “Did you see that?” Mary asked Clara.

       Clara inclined her head. “The one with the rifle?”

       “He’s getting ready for something. Whatever message just passed through the ranks has them all on edge.”

       Clara said, “I’m not sure whether to wish I understood the language or not at this point.”

       “After the last year, I think we both understand enough of men with their guns to translate anyway.”

       “More than enough. What do we do if shooting starts?”

       If shooting started, could Mary trust herself not to panic like she did when Hannabo unexpectedly shot dinner? It was only one rifle shot that affected her last time. How would she fare if they ended up embattled with guns firing all around? “I assume the men guarding us so closely will know what to do if the time comes. It’s Pastor Mayweather that worries me. He’s up in the thick of whatever is going on.”

       “Do the natives in the bush even use guns? Some of our men carry spears.”

       “I don’t really know. Our indoctrination session back in France said the missionaries before Pastor Mayweather were the first of any whites that far into the jungle interior. How would they have even gotten rifles?” Curiosity was replaced by a shiver of apprehension running down her spine. Rifles or spears, either were deadly in an enemy’s hands.

       An eternity passed in silence while they waited. Mary’s nerves frayed. Maybe William was right. She didn’t belong here. Not if she turned into one of those vapid women she despised every time a rifle was used.

       Then she thought of his pinched lips and creased brow when he had lectured her before they left Newaka. She’d had a hard time taking him seriously when the wind kept blowing his unruly brown hair into his eyes.

       Mary’s thoughts exploded with the crack of a single rifle shot. Porters grabbed Clara’s arms, hauling her off into the bush for cover. Mary resisted the ones who tried to grab her and stood rooted to the spot. Who was shot? Was William injured?

       Her bearers reached again for her arms and pulled. “Is someone shot? Please, I’m a doctor, I must help.”

       The younger man shook his head vigorously saying, “No savvy. Nana Pastor say Mammy Doctor must be protected.” His pressure on her arm increased.

       Part of her longed to give in and seek cover in the surrounding jungle. The tree sheltering Clara looked so appealing. Her oath as a doctor won out.

       She pulled her arm free and took advantage of her small stature to duck around him, striding quickly. The excited chattering and his at-heel position confirmed he hadn’t given up his quest to stop her. Fortunately she kept her immediate supplies in the pack she carried. She doubted she could have convinced any of these men to get it for her.

       Ignoring the dread weighing down her stomach, Mary forged ahead. If William was injured, or even another man, she had to help, not cower in fear.

       Sheer shock at her charge forward paralyzed the remaining porters still on the trail. A heavy sigh behind her told her that her shadow was still attached. She passed several more armed men, some with spears, before the jungle fell back and opened. She scented the wood smoke before she saw the tendrils reaching upward. Smoke escaped at random intervals throughout the yellow undulations of dried grass roofs.

       They had arrived at a village. If the rifle shot was any indication, an unfriendly one.

       Looking down the hill to the spot where the path widened at the village edge, Mary saw William. Hannabo was on one side and another porter, Jabo maybe, stood on the other. She stopped where she was to take in the scene. No one lay on the ground or clutched a wound. Who or what had been shot?

       All of her dramatic worries and it was just a serious discussion with a group of natives. No one was at war here.

       All of them were deferring to the one native in a worn black bowler hat and bright red loincloth standing with his arms folded across his chest, a chest hung with some type of decorative necklace. Must be the chief.

       Whoever he was, she knew the moment he became aware of her. He put out a bony finger and pointed. Was he pointing at her? All conversation ceased.

       William turned to see what Bowler Hat was pointing to, and if there had been any doubt in her mind she was the object of attention, the glare from William removed it.

       Bowler Hat began to speak. Mary wasn’t close enough to hear anything. By the frequency of gestures, there was a debate or perhaps a trade. She knew that trading was one way a missionary made inroads into a tribe’s favor.

       The conversation ended abruptly. Bowler Hat’s arms were back in place across his chest. William and Hannabo turned and headed toward the caravan. Hannabo looked on stolidly, but William’s face morphed from blank and emotionless to raw fury.

       When he drew near, his voice came out as a low hiss. “I told you to stay put. Turn around and follow behind me.”

       “I beg your pardon. I…”

       “If you don’t want to be that old man’s newest wife, you’ll do as I say and you’ll do it right now.”

      Chapter Four

      William tried to ignore the sputtering sound behind him. Amazing what it took to make that woman speechless. Now if he could figure out how to get her to follow his instructions.

       She didn’t stay speechless for long. “What do you mean I could end up as that old man’s wife? I assure you…”

       The villagers out of sight, he wheeled around to give Dr. O’Hara the dressing down she deserved. Except he misjudged how closely she was following and ended up with her walking right into him, knocking her pith helmet off her head and sending her backward. He caught her before she tilted to the ground.

       A hundred and ten pounds of warm femininity snapped back into his arms. Soft skin and womanly curves seared his bare arms. He loosed his grip and stepped back.

       “Thank you, Pastor Mayweather. I’m not normally so clumsy. My apologies.” Mary bent over to retrieve her helmet.

       “If by following me too closely you mean you didn’t stay put where you were told to, then you certainly do owe me an apology. Me and this entire company.”

       “What?”

       “Can you not follow simple instructions? I distinctly told you to wait where I left you.” His temple pulsed and throbbed. This healer would be the death of him yet.

       “I heard a shot. What in the world did I do that was so wrong? I came to see if someone was injured.”

       “No one was injured. Negotiations for passing through the village got a little difficult. Jabo overreacted when directly challenged by one of the warriors. He fired into the air.”

       “I had no way of knowing that. Someone might have been injured. I only came to see if my skills were needed.”

       She meant well, but William couldn’t find it in him to absolve her actions. Not considering. “Well, while you were busy seeing, you were seen before we’d negotiated simple pass through the village. It would have saved us hours on the trail. Now we’re expected to stay the night. By Nana Bolo no less.”

       “Nana Bolo? Is that the older man in the bowler hat? The one you said wanted me to be his wife?”

       “That would be the one.”

       “Well, tell him I said no. Politely, of course.”

       William blew out an impatient breath. “For an intelligent woman, you don’t know much about the way things work here.”

      

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