"I'm filthy," Camille complained as they made camp that night. She slapped the back of her neck. "And the bugs are eating me alive."
"I got a carbolic acid and sweet oil mixture you can apply to your skin. Don't smell half bad and keep the mosquitoes off you real good. Just got to be careful not to get it in your eyes."
"No thank you," she said even as she scratched a bite behind her ear.
"Suit yourself," Ruth said though she wished she had taken it just to stop the complaining, but she was sure Camille would find something else to complain about.
They'd been keeping far enough behind not to be spotted though Ruth suspected Ben knew she would follow. Ruth had the nagging sensation that she and Camille were being followed as well and had been repeatedly looking over her shoulder but had never seen anything to confirm it.
Camille looked at the Bible in Ruth's hand like it would bite if one weren't too careful. "Is that thing glued to your hand? Of all the things you could carry with you on a trip like this and that had to be one of them. It's useless."
"It's the most precious, essential item I own. I have immediate access to His Word whenever I need it. I'd be lost without it."
Camille snorted in reply and then watched as Ruth got a fire going and heated up beans and biscuits.
Camille ate in silence, but after she'd had her fill she leaned back on her hands and said, "I've known a lot of men."
Ruth could tell Camille was gearing up to taunt her, so she recited one of her favorite psalms to herself to keep from losing her temper, "I lift up mine eyes unto the hills—from whence cometh my help?"
"Kid's always been my favorite. He's so gentle and he makes you feel special. "
Her eyes started to burn. "My help cometh from the Lord, which made heaven and earth."
"But I suppose you'd know that. Doesn't it bother a woman like you? That he's known so many women?"
"He will not suffer thy foot to be moved— He that keepeth thee will not slumber. Behold, He that keepeth Israel shall neither slumber nor sleep."
Ruth had said it loud enough for Camille to hear what she was saying that time. "You believe that? What if they hang him? Would you still trust the God you serve then?"
"The Lord is thy keeper—the Lord is thy shade upon thy right hand; the sun shall not smite thee by day, nor the moon by night. The Lord shall preserve thee from all evil— He shall preserve Thy soul. The Lord shall preserve thy going out and thy coming in from this time forth, and even forevermore." She'd recited the rest of it to her because the psalm answered her question more perfectly than she ever could.
"So you really do then. Believe it. I pity and envy you at the same time for that kind of faith." She changed the subject quickly, realizing she'd ventured away from talk of Kid to talk of God, and went back to taunting. "You know I can teach you some ways to hold onto Kid."
"No thanks," Ruth said dryly. "I think if we're going to put in another day of riding, we should go to bed."
"You think you can after all the…" she hesitated for a moment to come up with the right euphemism, "miles he's put in. He'll tire of you. You have to keep things fresh."
It was Ruth's turn to pity her. "You really believe that? Marriage can get tiresome if both people ain't working at it. It's hard cause essentially you got two sinners living together in close quarters and it's a lot of work, painful at times; it ain't for the fainthearted, but it's worth it in the long run. Does his past with women bother me? Not nearly as much as you might think because he's not the same man he was then. I trust Kid because he trusts God and I know he trusts me for the same reason. We'll last because though coming together as man and wife is important, it's God that holds us together."
"I won't ever know about that. Women like me don't get married," she said coldly. "But I do think you're right about turning in."
sss
As the sky turned a blushing pink, Ruth was wakened by a rustling in the bushes. She'd brought her gravel-flipper along not only to nab a squirrel for the pot if needed, but to scare off any wild animals that might try to bother them. She grabbed it from her saddlebag.
Camille stirred, opening her eyes, and Ruth knew she must have looked a sight with her hair messy and creeping along with a slingshot in hand.
"You going to slay a giant?" Camille asked, her tongue still sharp though her brain was partly still enveloped in the fog of sleep.
Ruth responded by putting a finger to her lips to silence her and once she was at a suitable distance to keep the quarry from running, she said to the bushes, "If you're not a critter, I suggest you show yourself before this gravel comes flying in at you."
Ruth lowered her slingshot as she saw a girl around 10 pop up, skinny as a rail and wearing a nervous smile and a threadbare dress. "Hello."
"Have you been following me around since St. Louis?" Ruth asked.
"Yes," she admitted sheepishly
On the one hand Ruth was relieved that the situation hadn't turned out to be more sinister, but on the other hand, now there was a young girl to deal with that they couldn't just leave on her own. "Can I ask why you're following me?"
"You're my hero. You travel alone through the west—"
"With my husband," she corrected.
"Even so and you heal people. And you're so nice. I want to be just like you. I'm going to have my own revival meeting when I get older too. Sister Lydia's Revival."
Ruth was surprised. No one had ever wanted to emulate her before. She couldn't help but be flattered even if annoyance was at the top of her list of feelings at the moment.
"Aww, you got yourself a little disciple," Camille cooed sarcastically
Ruth wasn't amused with Camille or the girl. "Well, you can't follow me around. Your parents must be worried sick about you."
The girl started to protest, but Camille spoke first. "We can't take her back now. We're a day away. We'd lose them."
Ruth knew she was right. "You can stay with me until we're back in St. Louis, Lydia, but then you're going back to your family."
"Yes!" Lydia said, bubbling over with enthusiasm. "You won't regret this. You just watch. I'll be an enormous help. When the next couple of weeks are over, you won't want to be rid of me." She began to prove her words by rolling up Ruth's bedding for her, which was never going to fit in the saddle bag with the untidy bundle she had made of it.
"Lord, have mercy," Ruth said. What else could go wrong? Was God allowing Satan to try her endurance like Job? It sure felt like it.