Celia turned from the window. “Ruby’s coming up the lane.”

“I’ll be in the bedroom.” As Almira hurried away, she tossed a smile over her shoulder, and Celia felt reassured that she didn’t mind having to hide herself away when they had visitors.

Celia stepped out on the porch to greet her friend, glancing at the sky. In the east, dark clouds gathered, and the oppressive stickiness in the air warned of a storm on its way. Ruby must have important news to be out in this weather.

“Hey there.” Ruby ran up the porch steps and hugged Celia. “I’m still so excited about Will finding that Glory Patch, I don’t know what to do.”

“I know. It hardly seems real, but the money’s real enough.”

“I reckon you’ll be going on back to Nashville, won’t you?”

Celia sighed but tried to look cheerful. “I suppose. It’s what I’ve always wanted, what I’ve prayed for.” But an unsettled feeling rested heavy inside Celia, the same feeling she had every time she thought about leaving her family—and Truett—and going back to Nashville.

Yes, she wanted to get back to working and saving her earnings toward opening her own shop, but . . . was this what was best for her? Had she ever cared what God wanted? Was she too focused on what she wanted to even wonder?

The Bible said God’s will was good and perfect. For the first time, she wondered if she had missed the perfect will of God because she was too busy embracing the imperfect—but very strong—will of Celia.

Celia would have to think about that later. Right now she needed to ask Ruby a favor, for Almira’s sake.

“Ruby, since I’m leaving,” she swallowed the lump that came into her throat before continuing, “and Almira’s gone, would you be willing to teach the Bethel Springs children come September?”

“Me?” Ruby’s eyebrows disappeared beneath the hair curling on her forehead. “You think I could do it?”

“Almira told me you were her best student. You can do it—with God’s help,” she added.

“Well, if the young’uns and their folks’ll have me, I think I’d like that.” Ruby’s eyes widened, as though she was surprised at her own words.

Celia hugged her friend. “I know you’ll be a good teacher.”

Ruby clutched Celia’s arms and pushed away to look into her eyes. “I almost forgot what I came to tell you! Sheriff Suggs is causing trouble again.”

“What do you mean?” Celia held her breath.

“Well . . .” Ruby’s skirt swayed around her ankles as she stepped toward a chair and sat down, drawing out the suspense. Celia sat on the edge of the chair next to her, her eyes glued to Ruby’s lips.

“I heard tell that Sheriff Suggs is gonna lynch a couple of Negroes. You know, the ones that opened that store?” Ruby shook her head. “I can’t help but wonder if he did it just to spite Dr. Beverly, after that sermon he preached on Su— Why, Celia, whatever’s the matter with you? You’re whiter than a sheet.”

Celia stared at Ruby without seeing her. “How did you hear this?”

“Everybody’s talking about it. Some folks think the sheriff is just trying to smoke out the hooded horseman.”

If everybody was talking about it, then Truett would have heard. And Truett would never sit still and let those men be hanged.

A shot rang out, drifting to them from a long way off, but still distinct enough that the source of the sound was unmistakable.

Two more shots.

Celia jumped to her feet. Ruby stood too, grabbing Celia’s elbow. “You aren’t fixin’ to faint, are you, Celia?”

“I have to go!” Celia broke free from Ruby’s grasp and ran off the porch.

“Where?” Ruby called after her, but Celia neither answered nor slowed down as she raced into the trees.

Oh, God, please let him be all right. Please don’t let anyone be hurt, except maybe Suggs.

No, she shouldn’t pray like that.

God, please let no one be hurt, especially—

Images from the nightmare filled her mind—Truett lying on the ground, hurt, probably dead. Please, God . . . Please keep him safe.

Her heart pounded in her throat as she ran. After several minutes she couldn’t run anymore. She was gasping for breath and had to slow to a walk. She didn’t know if she would find him, but something told her that he would go to the cave to hide.

Lord, how can I bear it if Truett dies?

My grace is sufficient for you.

Celia almost stopped in her tracks as God spoke to her spirit. His grace was sufficient. She would be all right. God would help her.

She kept heading in the direction of the gunshots, toward the cave.

Celia focused on what she would do when she found him, safe and alive. Would she start another angry tirade, accusing him of putting his life in danger and disregarding her warnings? Oh, Truett, forgive me for being so hard on you. If he was alive, if she were able to find him, she would tell him she loved him. Tell him he was noble and brave and good. Tell him she’d marry him. Oh, how I want to be his wife, God. What a fool I’ve been. I’ve loved him all along. Nothing is as important as that.

Sweat tickled her neck in the hot August afternoon. A low rumble of thunder rolled in the distance. She wanted to run faster but the humid air was suffocating.

At first Celia couldn’t find the cave’s entrance. Where was it? She yanked back another tree branch and—there it was. But before she could go inside, she was greeted by the click of a gun’s hammer being pulled back.

She froze. “Truett?”

“Celia. Thank God.”

It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the semi-darkness, but it was easy to see Truett was much too pale and sweating more than even this heat should allow. And why was his arm wrapped around his middle? She sank to her knees beside him.

“You’re hurt! Tell me where!”

His face was scrunched into a grimace, but he shook his head. “It’s all right. Nothing to worry about. But if you could get something for me . . .”

“Yes! What?”

“Look in my saddlebag and get out the roll of bandages.”

His horse standing farther inside the cave. She hurried to him, pawed through his saddlebag, and finally found the narrow roll of white cloth inside.

Her heart still pounded, though her breathing was slowing back to normal. She knelt beside him, searching his body with her eyes. “Where is it?”

“Now, Celia, I don’t want you to see it. You just give me the bandage and look away.”

“No! I can do this, Truett. You need help. Let me help you.”

Truett raised his eyebrows at her.

“Please.”

He sighed. “All right. But I want you to know it’s not serious. The bullet went all the way through, and that’s a good thing.”

All the way through. Celia swallowed and tried to breathe. I will not faint. I will not faint . . .

“It missed all the organs. God was looking out for me.”

Celia still wasn’t sure where his wound was located, but she reached for the clasp on his cloak and got it unfastened. She swept off the black cape. A bright red stain made a large blotch on his undershirt at his lower left side.

Her stomach lurched. I will not get upset. I will not faint. She should pray. Oh, dear God, you won’t let him die, will you? I trust you, God. Truett is yours. Keep him alive.

Truett needed her. She would be strong and capable—for him. Her voice squeaked out of her tight throat, “Not serious, you say?”

“Now, Celia, if you start to feel faint—”

“No, I’m fine. What do I do?”

“We have to wrap it around, tight, to stop the bleeding. Here, I’ll hold it while you wrap.”

She placed the end of the roll of fabric against his bloody side. She concentrated on breathing in and out, and forced herself not to think about the warm, sticky blood on her fingers or the pain in his face. He placed his blood-covered hand over the end of the bandage and held it in place while she wrapped the bandage roll around his middle and his back. She had to lean over him, almost in his lap to get the bandage all the way around.

“Make sure it’s tight.”

Celia pulled it taut.

“Tighter.”

She pulled harder. Truett moved his hand so she could keep it as tight as possible. She kept winding carefully until she came around the wound again. He sucked in a breath through his teeth.

“I’m hurting you.”

“No, no, it needs to be tight.”

She continued winding the bandage across his stomach and around his back. A tear dripped off each cheek. Please let him not notice. She bit her lower lip to stop it from trembling.

She continued wrapping the bandage. He bit his lip, too. As she leaned toward him to get the bandage around his back, more tears dripped from her eyes onto his chest.

“Why are you crying?” His voice was strained.

She ducked her head and kept on with her task.

His fingers slipped under her chin and lifted her face, forcing her to stop. He gave her an intense, searching look.

“I love you, Truett.” Her voice broke. She knew her chin was quivering but she didn’t care. “I love you and I’m sorry if I caused you pain. I’m sorry for being such a fool.”

“You’re not a fool, Celia. I’d never think that about you.” He put his arm around her and pulled her against his chest. She didn’t even mind his sweat and laid her head against his shoulder. Her arms were already around his waist as she held the bandage behind his back.

“I should have accepted your marriage proposal. I’m so sorry for letting my fear stop me.”

“Are you saying you will marry me?”

“Yes, that’s what I’m saying.”

“You’re not afraid I’ll die on you?”

“I am still afraid.” Her voice hitched but she continued. “Almira said love was better than fear, and I know she’s right.” She lifted her face to his and kissed him.

She sat up and continued with the bandaging. Her tears had dried and she was now much more aware of his state of undress and her closeness to him. Her heart fluttered as she tried to avert her eyes from his chest.

When she came to the end of the bandage, she pinned it down. “I hope it’s tight enough.”

“Perfect. I’m so proud of you, Celia. You make a very lovely and capable nurse.”

“I bet you say that to all the girls who are in love with you.”

“No, just you.” He gave a half grin before grimacing.

Celia settled in beside him and leaned her back against the wall of the cave. “What now?”

Another clap of thunder, this time much closer, shook the ground beneath them. Fat drops of rain began to strike the leaves at the cave entrance, just a few feet from them.

“I figure we ought to wait for the storm to pass.”

Celia sat still beside him. She wanted to hold his hand, not caring that it was covered with blood, but she didn’t dare. She’d either start crying or want to kiss him again. Instead of holding his hand, she needed to think of a way to get him somewhere safe.

“After the storm I’m taking you to my house. Suggs might go to your house looking for you. If he sees you’ve been shot, he’ll know you’re the hooded horseman.”

She waited for him to argue with her, or to have a better idea.

“I suppose you’re right.”

His voice sounded weak. She sat forward and looked at him. Was he lying to her? Was his wound more serious than he had said? Was he dying? No, she couldn’t think like that. She had to stay calm. She couldn’t help him if she became hysterical.

“Truett, is there anything else I can do for you? Do you need water? I can go to the stream and get you some. It’s not far.”

“No. Having you beside me is all I need.”

“Truett, tell me the truth. Are you going to . . . die?” Her voice went up three octaves on the last word, then cracked.

Truett smiled, and then winced. “The worst thing is that I lost a lot of blood. But I think I’ll live. ‘Then may I dare to boast how I do love thee.’”

“This is no time for poetry. I wish you’d be serious.”

“I am serious. You just need to trust me. And trust God.”

Trust was not her strong suit. But neither was nursing, and she’d just done pretty well at that.

She gazed at him a long time. He was so dear to her.

She got up and took the blanket off the back of Truett’s saddle. “Do you want to lie down?”

“No, I think I’m better sitting up.”

She made a rectangle out of the blanket and tucked it behind his back and head.

“Thank you, darling. Now sit down and relax. The storm’s just starting.”

Darling. He called me darling. Her heart swelled again, forcing out a sigh.

She snuggled up to him, letting him lean on her. She prayed silently, asking God to heal the man she was unequivocally, irrevocably in love with, as the rain and wind began their deafening onslaught.

Truett closed his eyes and tried to sleep, but the pain in his side kept him too tense. Lightning flashed and the rain poured down, driven sideways at times by the fierce winds as he watched it through the cave entrance. Soon, the thunder and lightning grew less frequent and the wind and rain less violent. The storm seemed to be passing over them.

Celia’s head rested against his bare upper arm. Her hair had come loose from the pins and a few strands lay across her cheek. Every so often she would lift her head and look closely at his face and ask, “How are you feeling? Do you need to lie down?” The concern in her voice put a smile in his heart and almost made him forget the pain.

She had said she would marry him. He stared at her profile, memorizing her features.

He reached out and gently smoothed the hair back from her face. But he didn’t take his hand away. Her skin was as smooth as silk, and he rubbed her cheek with the back of his fingers.

Her eyelids fluttered and she lifted her head. “How are you feeling? Are you sure you don’t need to lie down? Has it stopped raining?”

“Not bad, yes, and yes.”

“We’d better go, then.”

She put her arms around him and let him use her shoulder as a crutch to help him up. He stayed propped against the wall until she could bring Colonel to him, just inside the mouth of the cave.

He stuck his foot in the stirrup, his hands on the pommel, and tried to propel himself into the saddle, but the pain stabbed all through him and he weakly fell back to his feet. With his next attempt Celia helped, pushing him up, and he finally managed to throw his leg over and pull himself into the saddle.

He closed his eyes, unable to breathe. The pain was so intense he almost lost consciousness. He rested his forehead on his horse’s neck.

Celia took the reins and led them through the woods.

It was almost completely dark when Will met them in the back yard. Will and Celia helped him off Colonel and half carried him inside. The pain was more intense than ever after the jostling he’d taken in the saddle. Sweat broke out on his forehead again, even though the rain had cooled things off.

“You can have my bed, Truett.” Will grinned at him, but there was fear in his eyes.

Truett grabbed Will’s arm. “Will, I need you. . .” He had to pause to catch his breath, as the pain was making it hard to breathe. “. . . to tell me . . . if you see . . . the sheriff.”

“Sure will, Tru. Don’t worry, now.”

Not sure how long he’d been lying in bed, Truett opened his eyes to Celia standing over him with glass of dark red liquid. Her voice seemed to come to him through a fog. “. . . Father’s medicinal wine.”

She slid her arm behind his back and raised him up, holding the glass to his lips. He drank a few sips and closed his eyes. She murmured something soothing and he drank some more, and then she eased him back onto the pillows. He immediately drifted into a strange dream about being chased by a bear with a big human nose and long, sharp claws.

The next morning Truett awakened long enough to eat a little bread. He gulped two glasses of water and then drank some warm tea. Celia was so happy to be able to tell him what she’d heard from Ruby—that Annie’s father and uncle had escaped from the sheriff and were hiding where Suggs was unlikely to find them. Then Truett went back to sleep.

Celia stood in the doorway, watching him sleep. He was so very dear.

She pressed a hand over her mouth. He actually loved her.

Since Will had discovered the patch of ginseng, Celia could go back to Nashville. The prospect filled her with excitement, but also with sadness and dread at the thought of being so far away from Truett. Would he still want to marry her if she went away? How long would they wait? Would she ever have her own shop? Questions whirled in her brain, but still, that old desperate feeling didn’t come back. Somehow, things would work themselves out.

Celia sighed. He was so noble and courageous. He deserved love and admiration.

She was such a selfish person, not like Lizzie and Will, who never asked for anything for themselves. They served the family and loved and cared and never tried to protect themselves with distrust and a hard heart—like she had. Oh, God, I don’t deserve him. I don’t even deserve my family.

My grace is sufficient for you.

Celia whispered softly, “God, I don’t deserve You, either. But your grace is sufficient for me.”

Lizzie hurried toward her. “Why are you crying? Is Truett all right?”

Celia wiped her face with her hands. “Everything’s all right. I’ve just been stupid, that’s all.”

Lizzie hugged her, and Celia hugged her sister back.

“Someone’s here.” Almira’s words drifted to them from the front parlor.

Celia and Lizzie exchanged a wary look and hurried toward Almira, who stood staring out the window, one hand clutching her neck.

“What are you doing, Almira?” Celia couldn’t imagine why she was still standing there.

“Shouldn’t you go hide?” Lizzie asked, touching her arm.

Almira didn’t move. Her eyes misted over. “It’s him.”

Celia peered out the window. The brown-skinned man pulled off his hat as he mounted the porch. His shoulders drooped slightly, as though tired. Celia had never seen the man before, but his dark skin—and Almira’s reaction to seeing him—told her exactly who he was.

“James.” Almira flung the door open and leapt into his arms.

He hugged her, then backed away, holding her at arm’s length and staring down at her stomach. “I’m sorry, Almira.”

She shook her head. Her voice trembled as she said, “I’m not sorry.” She paused. “I’m not sorry I’m having your baby. I’m just sorry we’re not married.”

“Truly?” Hope was evident in the way his voice rose at the end.

Almira nodded.

James sank to one knee, clutching Almira’s hand. “I love you, Almira. Will you marry me?”

“Yes.”

James stood and she fell into his arms again.

Will was already backing away, his cheeks red. Lizzie and Celia turned to go as well.

Heavy boots clomped up the steps outside. Sheriff Suggs was stomping across the porch.

James and Almira started running through the parlor toward the back of the house but had barely reached halfway across the room when the door burst open. Sheriff Suggs stood with a rifle pointed at James.

“I’m gonna kill you, boy!”