Journey of Hope

Her answer was delayed by the arrival of Momma Elliott with the promised bowl of broth. She placed it at the bedside and went to sit in a corner rocker. “Don’t mind me. I’ll just wait over here so the two of you can finish your conversation.”

Anna smiled at Momma Elliott, and then her voice, both gentle and authoritative, insisted, “Mr. Hastings, I’m afraid you do not understand the gravity of the situation, especially where the chief’s reaction to you being in his territory is concerned. The danger is greater than you realize.”

The sincerity of her tone carried through. She believed him to be in danger.

“I served in the trenches of the Great War. I feel confident I can handle the danger of jungle travel. The government has offered the territory’s mineral rights for sale. Certainly we wish to have good local relations, but ultimately the chief has no authority over these plans.” He softened his tone. “I do not wish to disappoint you, Miss Baldwin. I understand how much you need the money, so if you could just direct me to one of the guides you missionaries use, I’d be willing to pay you for the information.” He hated the distress shadowing those lovely brown eyes, but there was nothing else he could do for her.

Her pale cheeks flushed at the implication. Delicate hands punctuated her frustration as she spoke. “Yes, I need the money, but that’s not why I cannot let you go in there without me. Since the recent attempts of government troops to implement the infamous Hut Tax, Nana Mala views all outsiders with suspicion of working on the government’s behalf. He will not welcome you, even if you could find another guide. Which, by the way, you won’t.”

He got it. She wasn’t sharing her guides. “I appreciate the warning.” He turned to follow the bishop’s path out the door. Now what? He had no one else to interview. Should he board the ship and hope to find one farther down the coast? Every step toward the doorway felt like one step closer to failure, and failure, where his mother’s future was concerned, wasn’t an option.

Her soft voice stopped him. “Apparently my warning wasn’t strong enough. For your own sake...”

“Dear lady, I don’t wish my continued refusal of your services to humiliate you. I am sorry for your situation. I’m also well acquainted with desperation born of financial need. I would help you if I could. However, if you aren’t willing to share the names of your resources, I shall simply have to proceed without them. My deadline demands it. But I’m not one to hold a grudge, so I sincerely hope we can both conduct a civil relationship together once you reach the village after me.”

She expelled a deep breath. “Of course, Mr. Hastings. In fact, I’m quite certain civility will not be an issue between us.”

“Good.” He tipped his head and smiled at her agreement. “Then I’ll see you in the village when you arrive.” He nodded to Momma Elliott, who shook her head with ill-concealed amusement.

He didn’t clear the door frame before Anna’s words froze his limbs in place. “Probably not, Mr. Hastings. Should you arrive without me to intervene with the chief on your behalf, it’s more than likely that you will be killed on the spot.”

Chapter Two

Stewart leaned against the forward-deck rail and watched as Miss Baldwin’s companion, Mrs. Dowdy, helped her into the deck chair and tucked the blankets around her. Two days out to sea and her color was vastly improved. The multihued scarf around her head, protecting against the ship’s headwind, added appeal to that exotic face.

Not that he was interested. Just a little haunted by the first time he’d gazed into her eyes. Chalk that up to concern for her well-being after saving her. Rescuing her had engendered a protective feeling. He’d shake it off.

Maybe her personal watchdog would leave Anna’s side as she’d done yesterday and give them a chance to talk. After hearing Anna out about the chief’s murderous proclivities, and realizing exactly why he needed her specifically, preparations to make the next morning’s sailing had been his entire focus. He hadn’t counted on Anna’s chaperone circumventing most of his attempts at conversation since they’d boarded. He never should have told Mrs. Dowdy that he wasn’t a churchgoing man when she’d asked, but lying was his father’s style, not his. The price of his honesty included glacial stares and less-than-subtle hints that Mrs. Dowdy found him unworthy to associate with Anna.

Fortunately, Mrs. Dowdy wouldn’t be with them in the jungle. For now he’d have to watch for his moment. A lot of details needed to be worked out, and he had questions about the area and the people. He’d known there were risks. The Pahn tribe had a past reputation as cannibals, but he’d expected that government backing would protect him, or even that the stories had been exaggerated. Obviously there was a lot American Mining hadn’t known when they’d given him this assignment. He couldn’t afford any more surprises.

And there was his opening. Ten minutes after seeing her charge settled, she wandered off to one of the covered decks to play a couple rubbers of bridge. Finally his only firsthand source of information was alone, looking bright-eyed and a little bored.

He headed for the empty chair beside her. Besides information gathering, he hoped to find a way to make his expectations clear. He needed her to facilitate his explorations with the tribes along the way and vouch for him with the Pahn chief. But she must leave the decision making to him, her employer. That much had to be clear first. The last time he’d experienced confusion in the chain of command, men had died in the trenches beside him.

Stewart swerved around a group of passengers starting up a jump-rope game and crossed over to the starboard seating area. Anna glanced up at his approach and then cut her eyes back to the book in her lap. A hint she didn’t feel like socializing? Or just shyness? The irony of hiring a woman he knew so little about to protect him from a cannibal’s wrath struck him hard.

“May we speak, Miss Baldwin?”

She gestured to the adjacent deck chair. “Certainly. Please, have a seat.”

He settled himself in and stretched his long legs out in front, crossing his ankles. “How are you feeling today?”

A little sparkle lit those soft brown eyes. “Better than Mrs. Dowdy would have me believe. I’m afraid Dr. Mayweather’s permission for me to travel came with instructions my companion has interpreted very strictly.”

“In my experience, you can never be too careful with chloroform.” He waved off a steward bringing him a blanket.

“Yes, but who would have thought I would encounter chloroform-wielding bandits in Monrovia? Seems I’m safer in the jungle than on the capital’s streets.”

“I, too, find that odd. I trust the magistrates managed to apprehend the two men and get to the bottom of it?”

She shook her head. “No, but they believe I was targeted because I was thought to be a wealthy American. If they’d known I was a missionary, they probably would have picked a different victim. The magistrate searched, but Gradoo and his cohort were nowhere to be found. The officers that came around seemed happy to hear I was leaving. Either they feared word of what happened getting out, or they believed my departure solved their problem.”

“Until the next woman is their victim.”

“Exactly my concern.”

Perfect opening. He had to get this religious difference out of the way so business could proceed. “I can do nothing for that concern, but perhaps I could alleviate one of your others.”

Curiosity sparked her gaze as she inclined herself in his direction. “And what concern would that be?”

His thoughts scattered in response to her intense focus. He snapped them back to attention, but his plan for a casual conversation opener, making light of the differences in their beliefs, suddenly seemed inappropriate.

He tried a different tack. “Back at Momma Elliott’s you mentioned to the bishop your concern that my presence as both an unbeliever and someone with business interests might compromise your objectives with the Gospel. I want to reassure you that I have no intention of compromising your work there. I was raised by a churchgoing mother and fully understand what most religious folks consider acceptable behavior. I will be a model of missionary decorum, just without the preaching.”

She put one hand to her heart. “Thank you, Mr. Hastings. Just knowing that you understand the importance puts my concern to rest. I’ve worked hard to gain the trust of the chief and the parents who have entrusted their children to my teaching. If anything were to jeopardize that...”

“You teach?”

A soft smile played on her lips. “Yes. There are sixteen children in my school, and they are all such darlings. I miss them terribly.”

His expression must have given away his surprise.

She looked at him, merriment lighting up her face. “What did you think? Let me guess. You thought I walked around with my Bible open all day long praying and preaching.”

“Ah, you got me. I did think something like that. Bet you get that a lot.”

She reached over and her delicate hand patted his arm. “Don’t worry. Most people have no notion what a missionary’s life is actually like.”

The easy familiarity threw him, but he wished she hadn’t tucked her hands back under her blanket so quickly. “I would be one of them. But I did wonder about the danger for a lone woman, though. How does your family feel about your teaching in the wilds of the jungle?”

She stiffened. “My family has no idea what I do here. We don’t communicate.”

She’d chosen to bring her beliefs halfway around the world, but not to communicate with her own family? Proof, besides learning she was a teacher, he really didn’t know who he’d hired.

She studied his face. “I see by the shock and disapproval on your face that my answer is not what you expected. Tell me, Mr. Hastings, do you come from a close family?”

He cleared his throat to buy time as he contemplated how to answer. “I meant no disrespect. Your answer surprised me. I maintain a close relationship with my mother. My father is a different story. He died in an accident on the wharf where he worked when I was seventeen.”

“I’m so sorry. Must have been hard losing him at such an age.”

A hollow pit opened up in his stomach at her gentle condolence, and the truth poured out with no further provocation. “The difficult part was before his death. My father’s life revolved around the bottle. When he was drunk, he was violent. He had been drinking the day of the accident.” He listened to himself with amazement. He never talked about his past. It was those eyes and their long, sooty lashes drawing him in with every glance.

She adjusted her blanket and folded her hands together on top. “I am sorry for your loss. But perhaps you understand, then, that there are reasons family members might not remain close.”

“Yes, I can. I can also appreciate that you must be quite a force in the classroom, Miss Baldwin. You schooled me right out of disapproval and led me to a better conclusion effortlessly.” He omitted the part of how she’d also managed to avoid talking about herself.

The color in her cheeks heightened at the compliment. “Seeing the truth for ourselves is always more effective, don’t you think? We all need a reminder at times that there is usually more to the story than first meets the eye.”