Chapter 7: A Measure of Pity

~More helpful than all wisdom is one draft of simple human pity that will not forsake us.~ —George Eliot

~I hate you, Jake, I HATE YOU~!

Jake opened his eyes. Well, ~that~ was a great memory to wake up with.

The sun was just starting to appear on the horizon, but the shadows of the night were still clinging to the air. Glancing over at the smoky remains of the fire, he noticed that Dannie was still asleep.

“Maybe that’s why I don’t like you,” he murmured, “you remind me too much of Rachel.”

Rubbing his eyes, Jake stretched and stood up. He opened his canteen and drank, after which he poured some water over his face and behind his neck.

~Nothin’ in this world beats an Arizona sunrise,~ Jake thought, pausing to admire the beauty of the rising sun as it cast a reddish-pink glow over the copper landscape dotted with shrubbery and cacti. Once his eyes had feasted their fill, he turned his attention to matters of breakfast.

Movement caught his eye on Dannie’s side of the camp—and he went very, very still.

A large rattlesnake had slithered right next to Dannie, who was just beginning to stir.

“Miss Preston, don’t move,” he called, pulling out the colt revolver from his holster.

Dannie froze, not understanding what was wrong, but sensing the tension in Jake’s voice. A loud gunshot right next to her caused her to shriek.

“Are you trying to kill me?” she gasped, jumping out of her bedroll in terror.

Jake walked over and picked up the dead snake. “This here is a rattler, and they’ve got a terrible amount of poison in their fangs.”

Dannie shuddered at the sight of the rattlesnake. The color drained from her face, and she took a step back, gazing at it in utter horror. “Was it positioned to bite me?”

Jake shook his head. “Nah, they only attack if you threaten them.”

“Then why did you shoot it?”

“Because it was right in your way, and you would have rolled over and pinned it—and then it would have bitten you for sure. Also,” Jake grinned broadly, “I just found us breakfast.”

“You want me to eat a snake?” Dannie stared at it in disgust. “What of the venom?”

“All the venom is in his fangs,” Jake replied, walking over to the fire. “We’ll cut the head off, and then we’re good! Trust me, it ain’t that bad.”

“Trust you?” Dannie crossed her arms in front of her and placed her weight on one leg, causing her hip to stick out.

“Let’s not go there!” Jake growled, remembering last night’s conversation about trust.

His female companion said nothing more, though her disgust at the idea of eating a snake was still written all over her face.

“Ain’t no water for washin’,” he informed her, “but you can take a little from the canteen to wash yer face.”

There was a loud sigh. Jake figured she must be awful hot in that bulky black mourning gown.

“Reckon you never traveled much before?” he dared to ask.

“In all honesty, I hate traveling. Before all this, the furthest I ever was from home was Leeds,” Dannie replied as she put away her bed.

By the time Jake had started the fire, skinned the snake, and set it up to roast, she had put up her hair, tidied herself up, and come to watch him as he cooked.

“I’m guessin’ you won’t be a wanting to drink my coffee again?”

“No, but I would like you to show me just how you do it over an open fire.”

“Why would you want to know?”

“Maybe so the next time I meet a rude cowboy who asks me if I can cook over an open fire, I will be able to look him straight in the face and say yes.”

Jake couldn’t help but chuckle at this. “All right, if you put it that way, might as well teach you some practical skills while we are on this trip. Tell me, is knittin’ and sewin’ and all that readin’ and writin’ in different languages all you can do? Or are yer hidin’ some other talents?”

“Really, Mr. Jake, it seems you are determined to be my worst critic.” Dannie shook her head. “If you must know, I am quite musical. I play the piano and the flute, and I sing a little. Art was never my strong suit, but I can produce a proper little sketch and a decent watercolor. As far as Collingham society was concerned, I was quite an accomplished young lady.”

“Ain’t good skills out here, though.”

“I suppose not,” Dannie agreed with a shrug of her shoulders, “but you must remember, I wasn’t brought up to live out here. Yes, maybe I can’t milk cows and cook over an open fire, but I can host a dinner party, or lead a meeting of the Ladies’ Aid.”

“And you actually think those things useful?”

“Once again, out here, of course not. They are useful for the life I led in England. Yes, perhaps I would make a bad pioneer wife, but for a doctor, minister, or lawyer, I would be just the thing. I could handle the pressures of their work, and entertain the sort of people they come across.

“Our skills are developed for the surroundings we live in. So I think it unfair to say my skills are useless simply because they are meant for a life different from the one you lead. What is more, just because you think that form of life is silly doesn’t necessarily make it so. If there were no doctors or lawyers, your life would become pretty miserable.”

Dannie had a point, only Jake didn’t want to admit it.

“I’d appreciate if you wouldn’t call me Mr. Jake,” he grumbled, ignoring the rest of Dannie’s words, “it makes me feel like an old man. Jake is my name, and that is what you can call me.”

She frowned. “I told you I don’t like how informal it is. To constantly address you by your Christian name as though you are some old chum of mine—when I just met you two days ago. This is all so improper. Collingham society would be appalled.”

“Collingham society ain’t here to disapprove.”

The snake was soon ready, and Dannie dared to try it.

“I’m sorry to have to say this, Jake, but this tastes simply horrible. I fear I cannot eat it.”

She opted for eating the leftovers of the bread Maggie Callaway had sent. Bread and water was far better than Jake’s coffee and rattlesnake meat.

“What if there were no leftovers? What would you do?”

“I don’t know, and there’s no point in wondering. Besides, don’t we have supplies in the wagon? Or would you deny me those in an attempt to toughen me up to the hard lifestyle that I must now lead?”

Jake frowned. “Don’t make a villain out of me, Miss Preston. I ain’t one to let a woman go hungry.”

Something twinkled in her eyes, and she pulled her lips in as though to hold back words that badly wanted to come out, only she wasn’t about to let them.

Despite himself, Jake was curious about the words she was repressing.

Once breakfast was over, they began packing up. Dannie climbed into the wagon to arrange the bedrolls among the supplies. Jake was hitching up the horses when he noticed that Dannie’s suitcase was open, and a neat stack of three books was lying next to it.

Glancing around to make sure Dannie wasn’t looking, he stooped down and picked up the top book.

“A Bible,” he chuckled to himself. “She sure is a religious woman.” A paper slipped out, and he hastily picked it up. After another glance to make sure the coast was clear, Jake unfolded the slip.

~To my dearest Danielle~

~When darkness covers your life, and you are lost and afraid, remember Isaiah 41:13 and Isaiah 41:17-18 and know that God will guide you through the night and bring you to the sunrise.~

~Your Papa.~

Hearing movement from the wagon, Jake hastily stuffed the note back in the Bible and returned it to its proper place. He busied himself with the horses, and when Dannie hopped down, it was impossible to guess he had been snooping around her things.

As Dannie picked up her books and began tucking them into her bag, Jake noticed something small and blue tumble out of one of the books.

“You dropped somethin’,” he said, pointing. “Looks like a pressed flower.”

Dannie’s eyes followed Jake’s finger. Sure enough, three little dry forget-me-nots were lying on the dusty ground. Dannie gasped angrily and, scooping them from the ground, tossed them into the fire heap, burying them in the ashes with her foot.

“I was sure I had rid myself of all the mementos,” she hissed. “But that’s what happens when you don’t put all your eggs in one basket.”