Lydia rode with Camille because as Camille put it Carmel didn't need any more weight slowing her down and she certainly wasn't going to ride the plodding beast.
Camille seemed in a crabbier mood than the day before and she asked as they dismounted that night, "Will we have enough provisions for three to last until we reach Franklin?"
"We'll make do. Won't nobody starve," Ruth assured her. "Good thing about this time of year is that there's a mess of greens to be had if you go looking."
"Sounds delicious," Camille said, making a face. She found a log to sit on while Ruth got the meal together again.
Ruth chopped some of the vegetables she had brought along, contributions from some of the farm folks from the revival, readying it for a stew. Lydia helped by throwing the unneeded parts away, dumping the chopped pieces into the pot, and going to the nearby creek for some water. Ruth watered down the stew more than she would usually have done to make sure it would stretch comfortably between them.
"Can I go look around in the woods?" Lydia asked eagerly once the pot was simmering above the fire.
"As long as you don't wander off too far, I want you to stay in calling distance."
"Yes, ma'am. I will."
Ruth sighed as she watched her go. The girl needed new clothes badly. The ones she had on were so worn and dirty. If she'd brought along her sewing supplies and had the time, she would've made the girl a new dress. She hated to see a child dressed that way and it worried her to think of her not having more substantial clothes for the winter. She just hoped Lydia's family wouldn't be too proud to accept the charity.
Ruth was grateful for Camille's unusual silence she studied the Bible before the daylight was gone altogether.
About 20 minutes later, Lydia returned and was holding up her tattered apron and from the way she looked down at it, the apron held a treasure. "Look, Sister Ruth. I found a wild strawberry patch."
"So you did. This'll make a fine dessert. That's a good eye, you have."
She practically glowed under Ruth's praise and looked as proud as could be that she had contributed to the meal. She put them on a plate and presented it to her. "Can I do anything else?"
"You can stir the stew for me periodically. We don't want the bottom to scorch."
Ruth washed the strawberries off with some of the leftover water.
"Why don't she help?" Lydia demanded in a whisper. They were far enough away that Camille wouldn't hear a whisper.
"She is helping just by being here," Ruth answered.
Lydia looked at her incredulously though she didn't verbalize the doubt.
"She is," Ruth assured her. "She's going to help convince the man in Franklin of my husband's innocence. She didn't have to come."
"She could still help right now," Lydia muttered.
Camille suddenly jumped up and ran toward the woods.
"Do you think she heard? Did I hurt her feelings?" Lydia asked, sounding remorseful.
"I don't think so, honey, she just—"
They heard her retching behind the cover of trees. She came out, looking a little wan, but otherwise no worse for the wear.
"You okay?" Ruth asked.
"You don't have to pretend you care," she said sharply. However, once seated again, she said, "It's this hot weather we're having and the nonstop bouncing up and down on the back of a horse. It makes me sick."
"Oh," Lydia said, accepting the explanation.
Ruth didn't say a word, but the way she looked at Camille said she wasn't buying it and Camille knew it.
Ruth spooned out the stew, putting just enough in one of the small wooden bowls to cover the bottom. She walked it over to Camille. "You'll feel better if you try to put a little bit back on your stomach. Don't overdo but a little bit helps. Also, try not to smell it too much if you can."
"And how would you know?" she retorted.
"My granny was a healer, a midwife. I learned a lot from her."
Camille softened a little after Ruth's soft reply. "Yeah, well. Thanks, I guess. I'll give it a try."
Lydia divvied out the strawberries after they had all finished.
Camille gave a reminiscent smile, looking better and having kept down the light fare. "I knew a man once who really liked strawberries. He liked to be fed them while—"
Ruth cleared her throat. "Little pitchers have big ears," she cautioned, having seen where this story was going.
"I know what that means. I'm not a baby," Lydia said.
"You do?" Ruth asked, surprised.
"It means you don't want me to hear whatever she was going to say. Something that was ugly or not fit for polite company."
Ruth was visibly relieved. "You're right." The sky was darkening. "I think it's about time we were turning in anyway."
It didn't take long before Lydia was fast asleep on Ruth's quilt and pillow.
"What are you going to do?" Ruth asked.
It took Camille a moment to figure out what she was talking about. "Oh, you mean about the baby." She shrugged. "It's not the first time I've gotten in the family way and it probably won't be the last. As soon as we get back, I'll see to it."
Ruth was shocked by her words. She knew of such things but had never met anyone who'd actually done it.
"If I had someone like Kid, maybe I could keep it, but you don't know what it's like to be pregnant without a man, so don't judge me."
"I didn't say I was," Ruth replied.
"Your eyes said it for you," Camille bit back.
Ruth flushed. It was true. She had been judging her. It just didn't seem fair when she hoped and prayed each month that she and Kid would be blessed with a child, but so far the Lord hadn't answered her prayers. Yet, a woman who didn't want children had been blessed more than once and wasted the gift each time. Where was the justice in that?
Suddenly hope filled her eyes "What if Kid did raise it? He and I would treat it as our own. You know we would. Just please don't harm the baby."
Camille had been adjusting her pillows in preparation to lay down but now froze. "What do you care what happens to this unborn child? You don't even know it."
"No, but God does. 'I was cast upon Thee from the womb: Thou art my God from my mother's belly.' And believe it or not, I care about you too. You are doing damage if not to your body then to your heart and soul by doing such an act."
"You're lying. You don't care about me given the relationship I once had with your husband." Then she sighed. "Your offer is an option I hadn't considered. Not many want a child born from such circumstances. I'll think on it." She laid down and turned away, hiding whatever thoughts she would be thinking.
Ruth got down on the quilt beside Lydia. The girl looked so young and sweet asleep, dark wisps of her now groomed hair falling across her cheek. Ruth yearned for a child of her own to love, protect, and teach to know the Lord. Maybe Camille's baby was God's answer.