Bouquet for Iris (12 page)

Adam wanted to get on his horse and race back to the other side of the river. Why had he thought a visit to the Indian village would help clear his mind? And why had his horse thrown a shoe just as he reached the turn to Brainerd Mission? He’d come to find the blacksmith and get his horse reshod so he could continue his journey. The fact that it was Sunday made no difference to him since he and God were no longer on speaking terms. He had planned to wait quietly outside until the services were done, get his horse tended to, and get on his way.

Pastor Miller continued lauding Adam’s legal abilities, never realizing that his audience, Miss Iris Landon, was staring at Adam in shocked disbelief.

It was another indication of his bad luck to run into her after the scene he’d caused last week at her friend’s house. What must they think of him? He didn’t want to see the censure in Miss Landon’s big brown eyes so he kicked a rock loose and watched it skip across the ground and disappear under the steps leading to the meetinghouse. What right did she have to judge him? She was new to the town, and from what he’d heard, she’d grown up in the lap of luxury in Nashville. She was probably just a slightly more rustic version of Sylvia—secure in her little world and her narrow beliefs. Well, he had news for both of them. They might think they knew it all, but that was because they’d never had to brave the world beyond their safe borders. He would like to show Iris Landon what the real world was like.

Righteous anger filled his heart. He would not allow these people to judge him. “Excuse me.” The words came out in a low growl. Let them think what they may; he was going to escape. Adam turned on his heel and made his way into the meeting hall. Row after row of rough-hewn pews filled the main room. He supposed the preacher would stand on the raised dais up front so he could be seen by everyone.

Several of the pews were already occupied as Adam made his way to the front of the room and plopped down in the first pew. He’d show them that he was not afraid of them or their God. Condemning voices from the past filled his head as he sat there. They blocked out the rustle of a skirt as someone sat down next to him, but they could not compete with the wonderful fragrance that tickled his nose. Roses. Someone had brought roses into the room.

Adam looked to his right. Miss Iris Landon. Only she didn’t look disgusted, angry, or even scared of him. She looked … concerned. Her wide brown eyes searched his face even as her smile made his jaw unclench. He wanted to return her smile. He wanted it more than he wanted to maintain his anger.

She was not Sylvia, after all. She was just as beautiful but in a more natural way. His gaze soaked up the details of the long eyelashes that fluttered downward modestly, her rosy cheeks, and the generous mouth that still hinted at a smile. His fingers itched to push back the curls escaping her coiffure. He reined in his traitorous thoughts. They were what had gotten him in trouble before, and he would not allow history to repeat itself.

Pastor Miller stepped up on the dais and opened his arms to the crowd. “I am pleased to see you this Easter morning. We Christians have so much to celebrate, especially on this day. Let’s start the morning in song.”

Adam listened to Iris’s lilting soprano join in as the pastor sang “Jesus, Lover of My Soul.” He let the words wash over him, bringing some comfort to his roiling thoughts. When the next song began, “Sun of My Soul,” he allowed his own voice to join in. But his throat closed up when they reached the verse about a “wand’ring child” who spurns “the voice divine.” His conscience roared to life, pushing him to his feet. Well, why not. He’d entered the service on a wave of anger. Wasn’t it fitting that he exit on a river of remorse?

Iris shifted to allow Adam past her. She wanted to reach out and touch him, but she kept her hand at her side. Instead she sent a heartfelt prayer to God to defeat the demons in his life.

She settled back against the pew and concentrated on Pastor Miller’s message, but part of her mind worried about the tall man. Pastor Miller described Adam as a tireless defender of Indian rights. Perhaps she should give him the benefit of the doubt. It was a difficult time for anyone who cared about the future of the Cherokee. Perhaps if they’d met a year earlier, she would have seen another side of Adam. A charming, irresistible side.

When the service was over, she returned to the Millers’ home and enjoyed a large dinner of ham, sweet potatoes, and early peas. She, Camie, and Mrs. Miller put the girls down for a nap before returning to the parlor to overhear Lance and his father-in-law discussing a visit to the Cherokee village at the top of Lookout Mountain.

“It’s been a long, hard winter, and I’m worried that some of the villagers may be short on basic supplies,” Pastor Miller explained. “You would be doing me a favor to go up tomorrow, and you could show Iris here the citadel of rocks.”

Lance turned to his wife. “What do you think, dear?”

Camie looked apologetically at Iris before shaking her head. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to take the girls up there. It’s still a bit too cold, and Emily started coughing as we were putting her in the crib.”

Mrs. Miller came from the kitchen carrying cups, saucers, and a silver pot filled with aromatic coffee. Iris also recognized the spicy smell of fresh maple cookies. “Why don’t you leave them here with us? It’s the perfect opportunity to let Iris see a little of the country from up on high. And since your housekeeper is still away, I know you and Lance could use a break.”

“I concur.” Pastor Miller accepted a cup of coffee from his wife. “If Emily is getting sick, she probably ought to stay indoors for a day or two anyway.”

Iris turned down the coffee but reached for a cookie. She passed the plate to her friend and bit into the treat, savoring the piquant flavor.

“You may be right.” Camie’s voice was hesitant. “Would you like to go, Iris?”

“Of course she wants to go.” Lance answered before she could swallow the mouthful of cookie. “Don’t you remember your first time on the mountain? Besides, I think your parents want a chance to spoil our daughters a little.”

Iris thought a trip up the mountain sounded like a grand adventure if Camie was willing to go. She relished the idea of meeting with some of the local Cherokee, as well as seeing the view from the top of the mountain. The outline of the tall peak had intrigued her since her arrival.

Soon it was settled. Lance and Pastor Miller loaded the wagon with staples—coffee, flour, and sugar—to take with them while she described the changes in Nashville and the surrounding area to Mrs. Miller. Then the men came back in, and they all sat around discussing the mission’s successes and failures in this part of Tennessee.

That night, as Iris pulled her quilt to her chin, she wondered what had happened to Adam Stuart. Then she wondered why she cared. There was something about the man, something that drew her to him. Was it her desire to share her faith with him? Or something else?

“How far is the village from the mission?” Iris swayed with the wagon as Lance negotiated a sharp turn.

“About three hours by wagon,” Camie answered. “We’re almost there.”

From the tall trees on one side of her, Iris heard the call of birds and the rustle of small animals. She looked toward the other side of the trail, surprised that she could only see the tip-tops of trees stirring at the touch of a gentle breeze. Dizziness attacked her vision as she tried to look down the slope of the mountain on that side, making her grip the slats of the wagon bench. “That’s good.”

Camie sat next to her husband on the front bench, but she must have heard the discomfort in Iris’s voice. She turned around and laid a hand on her knee. “It’s overwhelming at first. But wait until we get to the top. The view is awesome.”

Lance guided the horses with care. “It always reminds me of how big God really is. He created so much, and we can only see the barest fraction of it.”

Iris tried to make her smile less shaky for Camie’s sake. She was determined to enjoy the trip.

The path opened up ahead of them, and suddenly she saw the village. The cluster of small mud-and-log houses reminded her of the Cherokee village close to Nashville. Women sat outside their homes cooking, sewing, or weaving on the looms donated by the government for their use. Several dogs ran to where they stood and barked vociferously, announcing their arrival to the tribe.

Camie waved and called out to a couple of the women as they made their way through the noisy animals. Soon they were in the middle of a laughing, hugging group. A few moments later the braves came out of the round council house, where they had apparently been holding a meeting.

Iris lost count of the names and faces as she was introduced around, but everyone was friendly and eager to learn about her. She told her story of coming to work for Mr. Spencer again and again, describing the children and their grandfather.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were following me.”

The sardonic voice turned Iris’s head. She forgot all about the Spencers. Her heart fluttered like a startled bird as her gaze locked with Adam Stuart’s. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask the same question. I thought you were visiting your friends at the mission.”

Iris frowned. Was the man deliberately baiting her? His tone was certainly filled with sarcasm. Was that how he kept people at a distance? But why? Why would he be so eager to alienate her? He and Pastor Miller obviously admired each other. And even Lance seemed to have a grudging admiration for him. Maybe he had a problem with women. She remembered her prayer for God to help him. Was his presence here a gentle nudge from above to encourage her to befriend Adam?

“It’s a pleasure to see you, too. I was hoping we’d have a chance to talk, but who would’ve thought it would happen so soon.” Iris congratulated herself on her answer. From the surprised look on his face, her response had not been what he expected. “I wonder if you could show me around. Lance and Camie promised me an awesome view, but he’s gone back to the wagon, and she’s busy renewing old friendships.”

Iris held her breath and watched the expressions crossing his face. Distrust, surprise, calculation, and finally surrender. He offered his arm to her. “Why not?”

A little voice inside warned Iris that she had been too impetuous, but she would not back down now. She took his arm and grabbed her skirt in case his stride outpaced her own, but she need not have worried. Adam Stuart might be taller, but he was considerate enough to shorten his stride so she had no trouble keeping up with him.

“Where are you from?” she asked, eager to open a dialogue.

“I was raised in Virginia. My pa sent me to William and Mary. I earned a degree before going to Washington to open a business.”

“My pa went to William and Mary, too, but he moved back to his parents’ home in Nashville and married my ma. Did you like living in the capitol city?” She saw him glance her way, but she focused on the path before her.

“I guess it was okay. I met a lot of important people, people who are making decisions that will shape the future of our country.”

“That must have been exciting. What made you come out here?”

The look in his eyes was dark and full of pain. What had happened? Had someone hurt him terribly?

He seemed to shake off the disturbing memories as he answered her. “Chief Ross asked me to set up shop out here and do what I can to help his people.” He helped her slide through a narrow opening between two giant boulders that crowded against each other. “But enough about me. Tell me about your home. Why did your parents allow you to come alone to Daisy?”

Iris allowed him to change the subject, relating the reasons for her journey to Daisy, but she couldn’t help wondering about the abrupt change. Something had happened to Adam in Washington, something to alter his outlook on life. If she could convince him to tell her about it, perhaps she could help him overcome it.

Excitement filled her as he led her onto a stone plateau that thrust itself out over the valley. She forgot his hidden problem as the world spread out before her.

Adam saw the view as though he was looking at it for the first time, the way Iris must be seeing it. The citadel of rocks was an awesome place, perched at the very top of the mountain and overlooking the serpentine waters of the Tennessee River as it wound its way through the large, flat valley below. The sun had not set, but the moon had already risen in the east, its face turned pumpkin orange from the reflected blaze of the sun.