The Fire in Ember - DiAnn Mills [26]
“I’m sorry.”
“It was bad watching him suffer. The pneumonia started as a sore throat, and then it got worse until he couldn’t breathe. His throat just kept getting more infected and finally closed up. He’s the one who taught me to read some and how to play the fiddle.”
“I can hear in your voice that you miss him. Could he play by ear like you?”
“Yes ma’am. If you mean he could hear a song then play it. I thought that was the only way to make the fiddle sing.” Bert let her mind drift to her dear Gideon, the only one who’d never hit her. He never called her names or told her it was her fault their ma had died.
“So no one’s left in your family?”
“No one to speak of.” Her words were not far from the truth. You killed Ma when she birthed you, and you couldn’t tend to Gideon. Now it’s your turn.
“Ember?”
The sound of her name on Leah’s lips was foreign. Gideon used to call her Ember when their brothers and pa weren’t around. He’d put her middle name with it to make her feel special.
“Ember, are you all right?”
She snapped her attention back to Leah, realizing she’d slipped and gone there. A place where she’d promised never to venture — and with the memory came a harsh reminder that something was very wrong with her, because horrible things happened to the ones she loved. A raw ache coursed through her body, leaving her weary. For a while, she’d forgotten. She’d vowed to not grow too fond of any of the Timmonses so nothing might happen to them … but she had. All of them.
Was it so wrong to have dreams? And hers were twofold: she craved a family, a chance to love and be loved. And she desperately needed to find a place where her pa and brothers would never find her.
“Ember?”
Bert pulled herself from her thoughts. “Did you say something?”
“Do you fear for your life?”
The memories were like a raw, bleeding wound. At times she wondered if there was a thorn in her heart. “Are you thinking Leon still wants me strung up for Mr. Oberlander’s mare?”
“Are you dancing around my question?”
Bert attempted to keep her face emotionless. “Miss Leah, it’s best you don’t ask me any more personal questions. I have to think about some things.”
“Then I’m right?”
Her temples pounded. “I mean … I don’t know. I’ve said far too much already.”
“Any way I can persuade you otherwise?”
“Perhaps someday.”
Leah tilted her head as she so often did when she had her mind on something. “Tomorrow’s church day, I need to make sure the boys’ shirts are ready for me to iron.”
“I’d be glad to do it.”
Leah blinked back tears. “Miss Ember, you can’t work away your troubles. Let someone help you along the way. Someday the running and hiding will have to stop. And that means facing the problem square on and sharing what you fear with others who care about you. Let God touch you.”
Bert didn’t understand the latter, but she believed it was good. The problem still held her captive. No loving God would want the likes of her. She’d seen too much. Heard too much. Had been through too much.
John watched Victor Oberlander ride toward the ranch. A huge man—in size and nobility. His very countenance demanded respect. But not all of his actions. And he was right on time with his mare, a darker chestnut than Racer. John cringed at the sight of Leon accompanying him and leading the mare. Something about the foreman bothered him. He shouldn’t judge a man by his looks or the way he looked at folks, but Leon had a mean streak. That was evident when he tried to hang Bert.
John opened the gate to the small corral where he’d placed Racer in anticipation of Oberlander bringing his prize mare. He waved at the two men riding in. “Mornin'.”
“And a fine one it is.” Oberlander grinned like a kid at Christmas.
John nodded at Leon, but the ranch hand ignored him and led Queen Victoria inside the corral. Once the gate was latched shut, Leon fixed his gaze beyond them and frowned. John knew without looking that he’d spotted Bert in the garden.
Oberlander dismounted and began to laugh. “Guess I never told you, Leon. But the boy you tried to hang