The Fire in Ember - DiAnn Mills [14]
“But you’re not surprised. You lied to him after he saved your life. I suspect this isn’t the only thing you’ve lied about.”
“Yes ma’am. I mean no, ma’am. I haven’t lied … just haven’t told him what he wants to know.” The girl’s eyes pooled, and she blinked several times.
“Are you ready to tell the truth?”
Bert shook her head. “I can’t.”
Compassion welled up in Leah. Whatever Bert had experienced must have been a nightmare. “What are we to do with you?”
Bert glanced at the hand holding hers. “John said there’d be a family meetin’ tonight. Except I’d rather leave.”
“Sometimes running seems to be the best answer to hard problems. But it doesn’t solve a thing. Truth is what frees us from ourselves.” She squeezed Bert’s hand. “Let’s get your bath and help you look respectable.”
CHAPTER 7
John leaned against a porch post. He’d sorted through every experience he’d ever known to come up with a solution for his problem with Bert. When his memory failed him, he prayed and thought about what his Uncle Parker might do in the same situation. Folks often said the two were alike in temperament and in the way they lassoed life. John doubted if Uncle Parker had encountered a girl with a questionable past who posed as a boy.
Uncle Parker had taught John how to live a godly life by standing up for his beliefs. He’d married a woman who’d been a bounty hunter and lived a couple of years with the Utes. That was unusual. But Aunt Sage never lied. In fact, she’d been straight up about everything in her life.
No help there, so John had gone back to praying, but his own anger seemed to drown out any guidance from the Lord. His brothers talked among themselves — Aaron and Mark laughed about something, and Evan propped Davis on his lap, no doubt a story in mind. Mama and Bert were still inside. Hopefully the girl had bathed, considering how badly she’d smelled at supper.
The door opened, and Mama walked out with Bert behind her … in a dress. John’s jaw dropped to his boots. Granted, Mama and Bert were about the same size, but Bert looked a whole lot different in Mama’s blue dress. Especially since she was clean and her near-shoulder-length, honey-colored hair washed and shiny. Now why hadn’t Mama given her Mark’s old jeans and shirt to wear? That made more sense than … than … this.
“Whoa,” Evan said barely above a whisper. “Guess you aren’t a boy after all.”
John scowled. The fears assaulting him about a female in their midst had taken physical form. Mama and Bert sat together on the porch bench. Bert’s eyes were red as though she’d been crying. Women and tears were a bad combination. John wasn’t about to let that weaken his resolve to find out the truth.
“We’ve got a decision to make here as a family.” His voice lacked its usual force. “We’re going to vote on whether Bert stays and completes the debt she owes, or I take her into town and let Marshal Culpepper or the preacher handle her refusal to state who she is or where she’s from.”
“We can ask questions?” Evan said.
John didn’t like the moonfaced look on that boy’s face. “In a minute. I have a few of my own. The right name sounds like a good beginning.” John aimed his words at Bert with a heavy coating of sternness.
“I’ve always been called Bert.” She glanced at Mama. When his mother gave the girl the familiar “go ahead and speak your mind” look, John’s irritation changed to a twinge of jealousy. “I didn’t lie about my name.”
“Is your mother alive, or did you lie about that?”
Mama lifted her chin. “John, you can form your words with more kindness.”
“Yes ma’am.” He took a breath and Mark laughed. “Bert, is your mother living?”
“No. She died when I was born.”
“Thank you.”
Aaron snickered. Both he and Mark would taste his tongue later. “What about your father?”
“He’s living, but we parted company.”
“Any more family?”
“I’d rather not say.”
So this is how she intended to play the game. “Where are you from?”
“I’d rather not say.”
“Have you broken the law?”
“No. I didn’t steal Oberlander’s horse.”
“Who are you running from?”
“I